Shades of Gray
by CausticArdor
Summary: (Fanfiction of the RP realm of Azuyan on the game Pony Island, a loosely MLP-based site) Kibeth the flutterpony is somehow born with a horn, an unnatural addition for her breed. It's obvious someone wants to take her for their own, and her life begins as a hurried rush to escape her birth-city. Will she ever find out why she's being pursued? Will she be able to stop it..?
1. Chapter 1 - Birth

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter One - Birth_

When Kibeth was born, the stars did not align. The sky was a dingy gray with darker thunderclouds on the horizon, ready to provide the desert land she was born in with a small amount of rain before moving on. No light shone down from the heavens to signify her birth and no angels' sweet songs resonated from the hilltops. There was nothing to show she had come into the world, just as with every other pony born to the lands of Azuyan. She was no more special to the world than any of those before her... and yet, she was a curiosity.

When her mother first set eyes on her - several hours after the birth, for she had been too pained toward the end to be in her right mind, and had fallen unconscious when the deed was done - she didn't notice it. Maybe it was the fatigue, maybe just a result of the usual feelings that overtook a mother; any baby born to her would be perfect, no matter what it turned out to look like. Her father, however, noticed it almost immediately. He didn't say anything... he didn't want to upset his wife, who still seemed so fragile, and who had fought to deliver the child for almost two days. It was her first birth, and she seemed to be glowing with happiness as her tear-filled eyes took in the mewling baby by her knees, swaddled in thick, cotton-like towels after having been cleaned by the midwives, who were now in the small house's kitchen, preparing a meal and some tea.

But eventually both her parents, and the midwives, would notice the small nub, the tiny bump on Kibeth's forehead that looked like a rough, thick, pointed patch of skin, devoid of the normal thin fur a pony tended to have on its body. The midwives had seen it before, on the foreheads of many a unicorn they helped deliver, a scaly covering to help keep the mother from being injured during the pony's delivery. It wouldn't have been so strange on any other pony, but Kibeth was a flutterpony; like all flutterponies, she was born with a lithe, long-legged body, and a pair of thin, opalescent, translucent wings; small, compared to her body, scalloped at the edges, and made for rapid flapping to keep the pony afloat, much like the wings of a bumblebee. No flutterpony was born with a _horn_.

* * *

After nearly a week, when her mother was feeling well enough to leave their home, they covered the foal in more swaddling and a hood, and paid for a cart to take them down the lengthy cobblestone path into town. It was a short trip; the difficult task was finding the correct doctor. The midwives had given them an address in the marketplace, and finding anything there was difficult unless you weren't looking for it. They stumbled into many a fishmonger's and tinkerer's tent before finding the doctor they sought.

The doctor's tent was filled with a number of expensive things. Painstakingly-woven rugs adorned the floor in all places, their colors and patterns - greens, purples, yellows, oranges, reds, pinks and blues, paisley, polka dots, leopard spots, zebra stripes, and plaid - fighting each other for attention. The tent was actually two tents; one larger, like a receiving hall or atrium, and a smaller, back-tent that was hidden behind a lush crimson curtain, fringed in dangling leather strips dotted with turquoise beads. From the center of the ceiling of the entrance tent hung a curious light, a giant globe nearly round in its many facets, which were each a piece of lightly-colored glass so the slow-burning candle in the middle, hanging apparently through no power of its own (probably put there by a magician), cast a soft, rainbow glow all around the room.

It was this globe her parents were admiring when the doctor materialized. Surely he came from behind the curtain, but he was there in an instant, already speculating about their business, the gold-framed glasses with intricate lacework temple arms perched neatly on his tiny nose. He was a fairypony, smaller even than the flutterponies before him. His fur shone a dingy crimson - like a dull version of the curtains behind him - but his mane was a bright, dandelion yellow, broken only by a single stripe of sky blue around the middle of his neck. His magenta wings looked a bit out-of-place on his back, translucent and shaped like a pointed oval, just as most male fairyponies' wings. He had his hair cropped quite short, a common hairstyle for someone who lived in the desert.

"What can I do for you?," he finally asked, his voice almost hushed, and a bit difficult to hear over the din of shoppers outside his makeshift office. He stared pointedly at Kibeth's father; the flutterpony was a dull, medium gray, with a pale white mane, his face ragged with age, despite his piercing red eyes. The doctor surmised he was probably already into his fifties.

It was the mother who stepped forward, though; her pale, slightly lilac-toned hide standing out against his richly-colored decorations, and even against her deep, raven's black mane. Her eyes - also bright crimson - were framed with the wrinkles of time, though she was clearly younger than the husband, probably in her late thirties.

"This is Chaldor," she motioned to her husband, "and my name is Ichna. My daughter, Kibeth..." she whispered, fearing to speak above the doctor's original tone. She picked up the large-handled basket that had lain at her hooves this entire time, offering the swaddled filly within up for his inspection.

"My name is Tanderr. Come with me," seeming disgusted with the formalities, the doctor didn't even look under the filly's hood, instead turning on his heel and parting the curtains behind him, offering a look back over his shoulder to make sure they were following him. The couple exchanged a worried glance, one he'd seen many times before, but they followed obediently, if a bit slowly.

The back tent was almost startlingly different than the front. There was a distinct lack of color; most things were white or pale gray, from the tent's walls to the pillows and tables and even the light sources: twelve or so small sconces with tiny, magical orbs of light bobbing slowly in them like tiny will-o-the-wisps, though they were clearly not alive. A series of small white bookcases provided some of the only color in the room, filled with books in multi-hued bindings, some of them tall, some of them squat, some thin and some as thick as a stout pony's leg. It was actually quite an impressive collection considering books were a bit rare; most ponies lacked the ability to write them and had to rely on elves and humans where they could, the scant few that existed.

At the center of the tent was a low-lying but wide table, surrounded by six or so carefully-placed pillows. The doctor had already seated himself, kneeling, to the left of the table. Carefully, Ichna placed the basket, which now seemed to be wriggling as the filly within had awakened, on the tabletop. She took a kneeling seat across the table from the doctor. Chaldor seemed more reluctant, his face souring almost the instant he stepped into the tent, but the doctor raised his gaze to stare firmly at him. Something about the almost palpable silence paired with the gaze over the finely-crafted glasses carried enough authority that Chaldor heaved an exasperated sigh and knelt, as well.

"Let's see what you've got wrapped up in here, then," Tanderr finally suggested after a lengthy pause as he looked the parents up and down. Using a mix between his front hooves and teeth, he pulled the bundle out from the basket - my, was it squirming eagerly, now! - and yanked off the hood.

Chaldor and Ichna looked at each other again, and back to the doctor, waiting for his response. But the doctor didn't seem to notice anything. He took the rest of the swaddling off the younster and coaxed her to her feet.

Kibeth was unlike either of her parents, and more of a mix of the two. She was a pale but near-perfect gray, with her hair only slightly darker than her body. Her eyes were the same bright crimson of her parents, though, and stared up at the doctor curiously. She hiccuped and her chest heaved; the rocking brought her down to her rump, where her front legs slid forward and she finally landed in a lying position. She continued to look up at the doctor, who looked down at her another moment before poking and prodding around, massaging her hips, turning her head left and then right, running a hoof-tip down her spine. He flipped her over and prodded at her stomach; she hiccuped again, struggled to get away from the uncomfortable treatment.

Once Tanderr seemed done examining her, he let her struggle over to her mother, who pulled her close. He tapped his chin with one hoof, seeming not entirely displeased or perplexed, but as though he was carefully thinking of the answer to an equation.

"There is nothing wrong with her; she is a perfectly healthy filly," he finally concluded. Ichna looked surprised.

"But the bump on her forehead-..." Chaldor began.

"It's nothing. Perhaps a scab from a rough delivery. Nothing to be afraid of," he shook his head dismissively.

"The midwives said they'd never seen anything like it on a flutterpony, they said it looks like a..." Ichna started, but felt she was unable to say it.

"It's nothing," Doctor Tanderr repeated, this time with a bit more authoritative of a tone in his voice. He thrust himself to his feet and went over to a tall, white chest of drawers that was hidden in a back corner of the tent. He stared at it a moment, reading the labels on the drawers, and finally opened the second down from the top. From within he pulled a small, clear jar of some sort of green, jelly-like substance. He carried it carefully with his teeth over to the table, and set it down.

"This is a lotion from the Drecco plant. It moisturizes and helps the skin heal. Rub it on her forehead thrice a day; the scaliness will go away and your filly will be fine."

Chaldor and Ichna both looked down at the tiny jar of salve doubtfully. If it could have been cured with a lotion, surely the midwives would have had something...? But this is where they had sent the new parents for advice... what was the point of coming if they would not take it. Ichna pursed her lips and looked to her husband.

"Thank you for your time. What is the total?" he asked the doctor, trying to keep the disbelief from his voice.

"Ten silver chips should suffice," Tanderr returned, motioning toward the front lobby and moving to open the curtain again. Chaldor heaved a sigh; that was a decent sum for a doctor's visit if they had found a real issue, but to be told to use a salve...?

Already Ichna was re-wrapping the tot, who had fallen asleep again, and carefully placing her in the basket she'd come in with. Obediently the two followed the doctor back out to the lobby, paid him, thanked him for his services, and stepped back out onto the dusty streets of the marketplace.

"Hmmmm..." was all Tanderr said to himself after they'd left, again supporting his weight on three legs as he tapped his chin with one of his front hooves.

* * *

On the cart-ride home, Chaldor and Ichna huddled at the back of the cart, distancing themselves from the earthpony who was dressed in a brightly-colored poncho and seated next to a basket of green chilies. Luckily the chestnut-colored stallion had seated himself at the fore of the cart, nearest the two cart-pullers - a pair of powerfully-muscled earthponies, themselves, one green and one purple, both with white manes, practically a staple around the marketplace for how often they gave rides - so the couple could talk in relative peace.

"Did you see the way he looked at us?" Ichna asked Chaldor, her usually demurely-angled eyes now sharply creased with worry. It pained Chaldor to see his wife this way. He knew it felt wrong, too, but he tried to comfort her.

"We'll just... do as he says, dear. He is a doctor, after all. What do we know? This is our first child..." he struggled to get the last part out.

They had been so much in love with one another that they hadn't felt the need for a foal until recently, when the chances of complications... and even deformities in the child... were much higher. Ichna had fretted every day since the conception, despite how he'd tried to comfort her. They had even had weekly - and expensive - home visits from the foal-specific doctor to make sure she was eating correctly, exercising, resting enough, and not overworking herself. They had worked so hard to make sure the child would have every chance at a healthy life. It almost seemed to go against all of the work they'd put in, to automatically assume something was wrong. It was best they trust the doctor the midwives had sent them to... right?

"Three times a day," he repeated the doctor's orders as he looked down at the small sack they'd put the salve into upon leaving. Ichna wasn't looking; her eyes were on the basket coddled between her front legs.

Kibeth was staring up at them cheerily from inside the swaddling, and under the hood. Her hoof was stuck solidly in her mouth and she was suckling on it, trying desperately to find sustenance in it. All the while her bright, red eyes were staring up at Ichna, large in her petite face. For a moment, the worry in Ichna's face disappeared; she smiled down at the tiny filly. Chaldor noticed this and hushed himself, instead taking on the worry for the both of them, his well-worn features frowning deeply. He put one hoof on the nearest of his wife's and they finished the cart ride home in silence.

The day passed into evening, and Kibeth was given two applications of the lotion. It made the entire house smell like a mix of burnt leaves and a heavy, earthen, soil scent, the smell of decay and rebirth in simultaneous harmony, but still not a necessarily pleasant one. Kibeth squirmed and kicked when they put it on her; Chaldor got a strong kick right to the side of his muzzle and, frustrated, passed the duty on to Ichna for the evening.

Ichna was a bit more careful. She laid Kibeth in the crib they'd had specially made for the filly, pushing a small, jingling mobile out of the way. Kibeth's eyes followed it, her cheeks pinching as she mustered a happy, if tired, grin at the sight and sound of it.

"Not right now, little one," Ichna chuckled, her voice low, attempting to sooth the filly. Kibeth's eyes darted over to her mother and she let out a small giggle, and then yawned widely.

"Yes, it is almost bedtime, isn't it," her mother responded, stifling a yawn herself.

She pulled a small bit of the salve from the jar, on the tip of her hoof, and while leaning over the crib, carefully spread it on the filly's forehead. Kibeth looked up at it curiously, and just as her mother began to rub it in, she started to kick, her back legs flailing upward. Ichna had seen the blow delivered to her husband and backed off a moment, her eyes pulling down with worry. As soon as she stopped rubbing, though, Kibeth stopped kicking and cooed a bit. Ichna sighed. She thought a moment.

"Perhaps you'd like a song..." she attempted. She hummed a note and then began to sing, a soothing song she remembered humming to herself several times over the course of her pregnancy.

_You're far away  
__Far away, little one  
__Come home to stay  
__Home to stay, little one_

_There are games to play  
__Games to play, little one  
__At least for today  
__For today, little one_

_We'll all be together  
__We'll join hooves and sing  
__Together forever  
__If you'll do just one thing_

_You're far away  
__Far away, little one  
__Come home to stay  
__Home to stay, little one..._

It didn't seem to apply, really; her child was right here, now. But it had the slow cadence she assumed the song needed, and she was right; as she rubbed the salve in while singing, Kibeth's eyes fluttered, drooped, and closed. She started to suck on her hoof again, and her tiny wings fluttered and pulled in at her sides. Tears filled Ichna's eyes at the sight of her beautiful little filly, passing off into slumber. She finished rubbing in the salve and wiped her hoof on a nearby burping cloth.

"We can have the midwives teach you more songs," Chaldor said under his breath from the doorway. Ichna gasped and turned, momentarily startled, her wings fluttering in her surprise, but she quickly quieted as a smile - one of the first since seeing Kibeth in the world - spread across her face.

"She seemed to like that one."

"Well, I don't know if I can sing it as well as you, and I don't need another one of these," he chuckled quietly as he pointed to the welt on his jaw. The two stepped toward their bedroom, but Ichna was already looking over her shoulder, back into the nursery. Chaldor saw this and snorted.

"We can push the crib into the bedroom, if you like. I know it's the first night since the birth that we've had her out of the room."

Ichna thought about this momentarily, then nodded.

"I think I'd like that. I'd feel... safer," she wasn't sure why but it was clear it meant something to her.

"I'll get her, then, you go lie down," Chaldor smirked and nodded as he turned back to the nursery.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Ichna replied, before silently trotting back to their bedroom across the hall. She wasn't sure how well she would sleep tonight, but it would be better with Kibeth in the room, she knew.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Chase

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Two - The Chase_

The two flutterponies were sleeping huddled up to one another when a rustling noise awoke Ichna. She had been sleeping restlessly ever since the baby had been born; sleeping felt entirely different than it had before, and she was waking up constantly to peer down into Kibeth's crib. The filly was surprisingly quiet for a babe. She still wanted to be fed frequently, but rather than bawling the whole night through, she would start with a few tiny whinnies, as if testing the sound for herself.

Ichna approached Kibeth's crib and found the child fast asleep. She turned to see Chaldor, bathed in moonlight from the room's curtained window. He was breathing deeply, clearly fast asleep. Ichna's eyebrows furrowed just as she heard another rustling noise. She could have sworn it sounded closer; just outside their bedroom door, even.

"Chaldor..?" she asked curiously, and the stallion awakened almost immediately with a surprised 'snrk!'

"Yes? What is it? Do you need something?"

Ichna smiled at his immediate offer of assistance. He would be a great father. Her ear twitched, angled toward the door as she heard a shuffling out in the hallway.

Chaldor heard it, too; his head snapped in the direction of the door.

There was a breathless moment, and then the door was kicked open.

Two dark figures - probably winged unicorns from the size and shape of their frames, even shrouded by the black capes they were wearing - pushed into the room. Ichna shrieked, immediately moving to defend her filly's crib.

Chaldor was out of the bed in an instant. He bowled over the nearest invader, flying straight into the pony's chest. All three near the door tumbled into a frenzied pile of flailing hooves. Ichna heard Chaldor utter a pained noise, and cold fear suddenly pumped through her veins. She felt sweat gather on her forehead, her shoulders tensed. She looked wildly around the room, once, before turning to the crib.

"Ugghhh..." came a deep-voiced utterance from one of the intruders.

"Chaldor!" Ichna cried, before grabbing Kibeth out of the crib by the scruff of her neck. The filly uttered a slight squeal, punctuated by an oddly-timed yawn. Ichna spared a moment of indecision looking around the room before she spied the window. Moonlight was still filtering in from outside. It was a single pane of glass. Just one pane...

Ichna took a deep breath and flung herself toward the exit, head down and forward, with the filly against her chest, cradled between her front legs. She fluttered her iridescent wings quickly, giving herself extra forward thrust.

The glass shattered all around her. She was relieved to find she couldn't feel it piercing her skin, even as jagged bits pressed into her forehead, her cheeks, her shoulders. The noise startled Kibeth, but it was over in an instant. The infant's shrieking was just beginning. But already Ichna was off, running, her long legs aiding her in surprisingly quick flight. She zigged around one home, past another. She headed toward the town square. Even at this hour, there would be other ponies there. There was safety in numbers; they would help protect her.

It was only when she was racing down the cobbled street, under the light of the near-full moon, her ragged breath tearing at her lungs and her heart throbbing, that she finally dared a glance backward.

She felt new energy enter her limbs as she saw Chaldor, there, following so closely behind her. His face was twisted in anger. There was a deep gash along one of his dull gray sides. Crimson had spilled down his side but was already drying. The cut wasn't deep. He pushed on, almost faster than she was (he had always had the longer legs). Finally he was at her side, just as they entered the square.

There wasn't a pony in sight. The square's eight magical lamps - tall poles, curved at the ends, holding small, bright orbs of light - cast an eerie yellow light that fought with the moon's natural near-blue, to help illuminate the completely bare ring of street around the fountain at the center of the square, the burbling of which had stopped much earlier in the day.

Ichna's frantic eyes turned to Chaldor. She couldn't open her mouth; Kibeth was only just now beginning to quiet down, despite the uncomfortable position hanging from her mother's teeth.

"The Night of Fire..." he whispered, breathless, reminding her that many ponies were probably at the marketplace, celebrating the immensely popular annual festival.

For an electrically-charged moment, the two flutterponies huddled closer together. Had it really only been moments ago they were sleeping in the bed together? Finally Chaldor seemed pushed to take action.

"In here," he said flatly. He turned toward a nearby home, the door of which was facing the street. The windows were dark. He turned his back to the wooden door and gave it a swift kick with his back hooves. The door creaked, the hinges buckling slightly.

"Umf!" Chaldor uttered, now feeling the sting of his wound. Angered, he gave the door another heavy kick; it broke inward, but thankfully didn't crash to the ground, which would have been more noise than they really wanted to make. With a motion of his muzzle he ushered his wife into the dark doorway, and then stepped in himself.

The home was unfamiliar. They dared not venture too deep into it. Instead, Chaldor did his best to prop the door up again, as quietly as possible. Ichna set her child down on the floor, cradling her between her front legs. Then they waited. They tried to control their breath, both of them breathing in through their noses, and out as slowly as possible through their mouths.

* * *

It felt like hours passed. Maybe it had been hours. Slowly Ichna came to huddle closer to Chaldor, more than a little intimidated by the darkness. It was only when the first rays of the morning sun started to peek in through the cracked door and nearby windows that they both breathed a sigh of relief. If the attackers were still following, they would have been found by now. It was only moments later that the sound of a pony or two - chatting as they trotted toward the marketplace - could be heard. Ponies were rousing in all of their homes.

"We need to leave before the owner returns..." Chaldor said, somewhat ruefully, as he examined the now-destroyed door. Hopefully they would realize nothing had been stolen and the damage could be repaired easily.

"Where will we go?" Ichna returned. Her voice sounded like a bang in her ears, strident, as loud as they'd dared speak in some time.

As if on cue, Kibeth snuffled, rolled in her sleeping spot, pushed herself slightly to her hooves, and began to cry.

"There, there," Ichna responded almost reflexively. She felt as though she could cry, herself. Frustration tightened her chest; her sinuses burned as she held back tears.

"Oh, my love..." Chaldor whispered. He could finally see his wife in the light. Her face was torn by the window she'd broken.

She could see the worry in his eyes, but her own seemed slightly dazed. She could see his wound more clearly, too, but it had completely dried, only a few spatters on his coat left to show anything had happened.

"We must get to a doctor," Chaldor finally stated, a thick tone of stubbornness in his voice that she knew she couldn't ignore. It was daylight, now, though. Hopefully whomever - or whatever - had attacked them wouldn't dare the same out in the open.

When they left the house - Chaldor tried to prop the door up behind them, again, still looking mortified that they would have to leave it in such disrepair - they angled down a side-street. The nearest doctor was a block away, and they were both weary. Kibeth was crying for milk, but Ichna simply didn't have the strength; she trudged forward, head hanging low as she tried to support the filly's weight, made harder by the child's kicking and fits.

More than a few ponies passed them on the street, mouths agape. One very polite unicorn, a gruff-looking old stallion with many an extra whisker but a leathery voice that was strangely soothing, took pity on them. Thankfully he didn't seem intent on asking any questions past "Are you headed to see a doctor?", before he hailed the nearest passing cart and paid for their travel. This was a blessing; all of their belongings were back home, left behind as they fled. They had nothing, not even money for the doctor. As they boarded the cart, Chaldor's heart was heavy with the knowledge they would not be able to repay him immediately.

His mind turned to his stall in the Tinker's Alley of the market. He was not a tinker by trade - he was actually a basketweaver - but he enjoyed the banter of his colleagues. He wondered if they would ask one another where he was. Once, during Ishna's pregnancy, she had fallen ill, and he had stayed home with her. The tinker in the tent next to his had spent the entire day selling his baskets; when he returned the next day, he was actually nearly out of stock. He actually chuckled to himself as he remembered this. He'd shared the profits with the old-timer and even invited him to dinner the next day.

He wondered if perhaps the tinker would simply move into the basket-weaving trade if Chaldor never came back. He felt a lump rise in his throat at the thought of leaving his shop to ruin.

And already they were at the doctor's office. He helped Ichna unload, carefully scruffing Kibeth as the weary mother dropped down off the cart, the last of her reserves depleting. She would need to be patched up, and she would need to eat.

Naturally the doctor was worried. The fairypony - completely unrelated to Doctor Tanderr, instead a very hyperactive chap, colored all in bright royal blue with the most spritely yellow eyes - muttered to himself as he washed her wounds. He took a long needle in his mouth and stitched some of the larger wounds, even stiching the one along Chaldor's side.

"Your wife needs rest," he told the stallion. Chaldor nodded slowly, his head lowering as he felt the doctor judging him. No matter how many time's he'd explained that they'd been robbed and fled, the doctor seemed skeptical, so he'd stopped. Let him believe what he wanted to. Soon Ichna would be awake again and could explain, herself.

"Can I... can I come back?" he asked the doctor hesitantly, then. "I have to check on my stall at the market. At the very least, I need to get your payment."

The doctor eyed him - again skeptically - but he looked back at the sleeping Ichna, half-covered in bandages. Obviously he would need to get paid, and the mare would need several hours more of rest.

"Fine, fine, leave them here with me," he responded, "Now shoo, get, go, I have other patients to attend to." He returned to work on Ichna, suddenly ignoring Chaldor. Chaldor took another glance in his wife's direction. His eyes landed on Kibeth, who was sleeping happily next to her mother, again suckling on her hoof. He didn't want to leave them. At the very least, his own muscles ached for rest. His eyelids were beginning to droop. He fought the fatigue and stepped out into the sunlight.

* * *

It was a long walk to the market. How he wished he'd managed to grab a coin pouch before running from their home, so he could afford a cart ride! Thankfully they had run in the direction of the market, so it was much closer than on a normal day... which was still quite far. Almost all of the town's revenue was centered in the marketplace, a common occurence with a seaport desert town such as theirs. Merchants traveled great distances to come to the city and sell their wares at high prices; meanwhile, some of the wares available that were gleaned from the desert - such as the rare and elusive f'hassberry, and even the reed and cane with which he wove some of his baskets - were in high demand elsewhere in the world. If you made money in the city at all, you were either a tradespony, a salespony of some sort, or you catered to the masses of visitors to the town by offering rooms in your home up for rent, or opening a bar or tavern.

Chaldor passed by one such bar - really, a run-down shanty of a place - and for a moment he paused outside. He didn't drink often, but he seriously considered it a moment before moving on. He needed to get to his stall in the market and retrieve some funds from his lockbox. And get back to his wife and young child.

The market was bustling as usual, with an extra push of workers as janitors hired by the city cleaned the streets from the previous night's revelries. All around the market there were burnt-down stalls, discarded rolls of half-burnt paper, and the smell of roasted just-about-everything hung in the air like some sort of cloying perfume. It brought back so many memories. He had brought Ichna to the Night of Fire several different years, and his mind wandered back to those times as he made his way down the streets.

He remembered their first Night of Fire, when he'd nearly been set on fire by a fire-breathing pony. Not a dragonpony - though they were prevalent in the desert city due to their ability to withstand the heat - but a pegasus who had learned the art of blowing fire forward into a jet of flame with his mouth. It was more impressive because it _wasn't_ magic, actually; the pegasus had to rear onto its hind legs and hold a thin stick with a ball of flame on the end between its front hooves. Chaldor imagined the trick used some sort of alcohol; it was shot forward with a practiced, intensive spray, from the mouth, into the bit of flame held in front of the stream, and it lit up into an impressive, if brief, display. One he had nearly walked right into. If Ichna hadn't been paying attention and tugged him out of the way... Well, they'd laughed about it that night, but he still felt thankful to her.

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of his stall. It stood in a very narrow alleyway. This one wasn't paved - the first thing that alerted him that he'd reached his destination - instead swirling with the desert's normal, gritty, bright orange sands. The white walls of the buildings on either side were in starke contrast with this and the many colors of the bright awnings that hung over the deep black pits of the openings to stores. Most stores provided as much shade as possible, so their stores were nearly pitch-black inside; most light meant heat, which was the last thing desert-dwelling ponies needed more of.

To his left was his own store. The awning was hanging down, and wood planks barred the entrance, a sign that the store was closed. No baskets or stands stood in the street in front of his store. Apparently the tinkers hadn't opened shop for him. Not a big deal, but it was curious. He looked to his right and saw the bright blue awning of Alberno the dragonpony's clock-shop held up by two well-placed poles, with a dark mahogany table between them upon which he'd displayed several wares. Upon closer inspection, the lime green dragonpony's tail was clearly peeking out the entrance to his shop. Chaldor approached the table.

"Has anyone stopped by for me?" he asked, his head cocked with curiosity.

Alberno practically leapt from his skin, dropping a bronze clock to the ground. Luckily - or perhaps unluckily for the fragile cogs inside - the sand broke the object's fall. It would probably be filled with it when retrieved, though.

"Blard trak yer fluppin' loud trap!" Alberno cursed a stream, knowing this, as he reached down with the three claws that reached from the apex of his left wing to pick up the clock. He brought it up to his snout, which was tipped with a couple of tiny horns and displayed a mouthful of cruel teeth, and flipped it around, between wing-claws. His long, serpentine tail flicked around behind him in annoyance. Even his expressive flaps of ears, like little wings themselves, flexed back against his head and the long, flexible horns that swept back from around the tuft of black hair on his head.

He shook the clock and it released a cascade of sand. He muttered a few more curses to himself before setting the clock on the table in front of him and finally looking up to Chaldor.

"Yessir summun wuz here lookin' fer ya," the dragon stated, sounding a little angry, "I only 'ad to tell 'em fitty times ya wernt here. T'ey nearly tore down yer awnin' tryin' to get inside. Didna look like t'ey wuz frum 'ere. T'ey didna even know yer awnin' wuz hidin' a large wood'n door behin' it!" At this the dragon let out a near-ground-shaking, throaty chuckle. If Chaldor hadn't known the dragonpony well, he might've started back a step. Especially since dragonponies were commonly known for being carnivores and rather fond of flutterponies.

Alberno stopped chortling when he realized Chaldor had gone slightly pale in the face. Then he noticed the bandages on the flutter's side.

"Eh? Summin wrong witcher?" he asked, carefully.

Chaldor thought a moment and then turned around, facing his stall. He started preparing to open it, removing the wooden planks, propping up wooden poles and attaching the awning to them, and finally opening the thick wooden doors behind the mess to reveal basket-lined shelves that disappeared into darkness. In the middle of his store, the table he pushed in every night. He pushed this aside and went into the depths of his store to find his lockbox.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to his surroundings, but he easily wove his way back through the store without sight, knowing it from his many travels deep into it. It only went back about ten feet, but it was enough. He nearly tripped on a basket that had fallen from its perch on a shelf. At the back of the store was a small bookshelf, and on it sat a wooden box with a silver keyhole. Easily, Chaldor reached up to a tiny basket on a top-right shelf and retrieved the silver key with his mouth. He pushed it into the keyhole, turned until he heard the familiar 'click,'and the box sprung open to reveal two coin purses, both filled with gold, silver, and copper pieces. He picked these up in his mouth and trotted back out of his stall, back across the narrow alleyway to Alberno's shop.

The dragonpony had been watching him, and now took it upon himself to say something.

"I ken y'dun wanna talk 'bout it, but m'ears is open." He flapped one of them in Chaldor's direction.

Chaldor huffed.

"Do you have a... pouch of some sort? Something I can carry these in?" he indicated the sacks of money, "I don't want to be running around with them out in the open. I can pay, of course." He opened the drawstring on one and poured out a silver and a couple of copper.

"Oy, yer, pouch, yer, got one," the dragon shuffled his feet, turned back into his shop, and quickly retrieved a plain, leather-like pouch with a long drawstring meant to loop around a pony's neck. He held it out to Chaldor, who made to take it, but Alberno pulled it back at the last second.

"... IF yull tell me what's goin' on."

Chaldor tried to decide... he stared sheepishly at his hooves in the sand, and couldn't tell if he should simply lie, or tell the truth. He didn't know which was worse... or more dangerous. Upsetting the dragon if he figured out the lie, or voicing a worry that was slowly becoming more real.

"I... I think somepony is after me," he finally blurted out, heaving a deep sigh in the process.

"I don't know why. I don't know why! But two ponies... they came into our house while we were sleeping. They attacked us. They attacked Ichna! We ran, but... I just don't know what to do. I thought maybe they were robbers, but... you said some ponies stopped by my stall today..." He swallowed, hard.

Alberno harrumphed.

"Yer, them two wut stop'd by dinna seem ver friendly," he finally concluded. "Do ya owe anyponer sum monies?"

"No, of course not!" Chaldor cried, feeling stung by the accusation and frustrated that the answer wasn't that easy.

"Oy oy, jus' tryin' ter figurr t'stuff out fer ya. 'S me who otter be bitin' yer head off, affer all," Alberno scolded softly, his head lowering a bit.

"Wulp," the dragonpony finally concluded, "I ken I could give yer the address'f a safe place t'stay fer a week er so."

Chaldor's lowered gaze snapped up, "Really? You know of somewhere..? I just... I want to keep Kibeth safe."

"Ah, izzat 'er name, eh? T' wee one?" Alberno let out a sort of grumble that was more like a dragon's attempt at a purr. Chaldor realized it had been days before since he'd last been able to speak with the dragonpony tinker, as busy as he'd been with Kibeth's birth and taking care of Ichna. He pinked a bit, embarrassed.

"Yes, it's Kibeth," he repeated, now glowing a bit with the memory that he was a father. His daughter was a long distance away, but she was his... and she was safe.

"Please, if you could... please, we really need a place to stay. I'm afraid for my family's safety if we go home..." Chaldor trailed off.

"Aye, aye, I kin do't fer yer, jussa minnit," again the dragon shuffled off into the darkness. He kept a lot of things in his shop, random necessities. It actually seemed as though the dragon lived there. Looking inside, Chaldor didn't doubt it; there were pillows and blankets rolled into a bundle in one corner. A tiny food pantry in another. The flutterpony was suddenly surprised he'd never given the tinker's shop a closer inspection. He knew Alberno was invested in his work, and it _seemed_ the dragon never really went anywhere, never left his work alone for the evening... but he assumed the extra hours were just pouring into various urgent works (the tinkers were almost always brought things and told they needed to be fixed 'immediately'; it was up to them to decide what 'immediately' really meant to them).

Alberno was back, now, a tiny slip of paper in his wing-claw. He stuffed the paper into the leather sack he'd been offering Chaldor, and then stuffed the coin pouches - including the coins the flutter had laid out for him - into the leather sack along with it.

"Thank you. Thank you, Alberno," Chaldor said, almost excitedly, as he slipped the sack's cord around his neck.

"Oy, yer better be bringin' it back t'me, too," he rumbled an exaggerated warning.

"Yes, yes, of course," Chaldor nodded solemnly. He gave the dragonpony one more look over. Of course he would bring the pouch and address back to Alberno. Of course he would see the gruff old tinker again in a week or so.

He kept repeating this in his head as he packed up his stall, stuffing the table back down the small hallway, closing the wooden doors, pulling the awning down and blocking the doors off with the wooden planks. When he was done, he was covered in sweat. He looked up into the sky, and despite the alleyway being so narrow, he could see the sun; it meant it was almost directly overhead. He'd spent hours, here, somehow. Maybe he'd been dawdling, spending time enjoying the normalcy of working in his shop. He'd felt compelled to weave a basket before leaving. Now it was closed. Now he had to move on.

He passed by the bar again as he made his way back down the streets. He didn't spare it another look. As nice as a drink might have been, seeing his wife and child again was the priority. It had been too long since he'd left them. He picked up his pace. Maybe he would reach them within the hour, if he worked hard enough at it. He felt his side stinging slightly and ignored it; the wounds were practically superficial at this point.

He took a slight side-route and managed to pass by one of the many stations of the city's guards. He tried his best to report everything that had happened the night before, but it was as he'd suspected: the guards generally had little to do with disputes within the city walls and were more concerned about threats from outside, especially considering the number of marauders who often attacked the outskirts. They basically smiled and nodded and said they would file a report away, but they probably forgot about him as soon as he turned his tail toward them and stepped out of their offices into the sunlight again.

Sometimes he wished he had brought his family up somewhere else. As much as the desert town was his home, it was also much more dangerous than some other towns he'd heard of. Maybe they were just stories, but... surely there was some town out there that was not subject to constant marauder attacks. At least the guards in this town were able to repel them the majority of the time, he finally conceded.


	3. Chapter 3 - Garf

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Three - Garf_

Had time really passed that quickly? He was outside the doctor's office again. He pushed open the door and felt something heavy behind it. Maybe his wound had just made him slightly weak. He leaned into the door and felt something sliding behind it. Odd. Surely the doctor hadn't gone out to lunch? There was no sign on the outside of the door. Finally Chaldor pushed the door open wide enough that he was able to squeeze inside.

It was dark. Alarms immediately went off in Chaldor's mind: this wasn't right. He struggled to push the door open further, to let the light from the street shine in. Whatever was behind the door was heavy. He let his eyes adjust. It was a bright blue color. And then he noticed: it was the doctor. The fairypony was simply strewn across the floor. Chaldor's mind started to reel; he fought his body's response to black out... unfortunately he wasn't strong enough to keep from stumbling out into the sunlight and retching.

"You there!" he heard a pony's voice not to far away. "There's blood all over you."

"The doctor," Chaldor gasped, trying to pull in air past the sickly-sour scent of his insides, "the doctor's dead."

The other pony moved inside to inspect what had happened. Chaldor's mind was trying to focus. He dared not go deeper into the office. What if Ichna... Kibeth... He'd left them there. He'd assumed they were safe. It was a doctor, after all...!

"There's no one else inside. Did you see who did it?" the other pony came back out and inquired, roughly. Chaldor only then noticed it was a guard. The irony that the guards had done nothing for him moments before was lost on his mind, dulled with shock as it was.

"N-no... I... I left my wife and child... I was gone for a few hours... tending shop..." Chaldor wheezed. The guard looked down on him, sternly. For a moment Chaldor suddenly felt cold as a thought washed over him: what if the guard thought he had...?

"What did they look like? We'll help you find them," the guard finally said, and Chaldor's mind eased.

"Flutterponies... Ichna, she's a light gray, and Kibeth... Kibeth... she's just a baby! Gray... a silvery gray... oh Kibeth! Ichna!" Chaldor could feel tears start to pour down his face. The corners of his eyes stung with the sudden, unexpected crying. He tried to keep himself under control, but he felt compelled to start shouting their names.

"Ichna! Kibeth! Iiiichna!" He ran up the street a short ways, then back down it, before taking off into the air. The roofs of the houses below him came into a more full view, and he could see some alleyways around the doctor's office. There was nothing. He saw no trace of anything: no tracks. No blood. He felt like his mind was on fire.

"Ichna! Ichna, where are you?!" he flew to the north, to the west, to the south, to the east. He wound back where he was. He could see the guard who'd approached him earlier, below; the earthpony was now surrounded by three other guards. They were nodding as he pointed between the doctor's office and himself. Would they really be able to help find her? Already it seemed like he was doing more work. His frantic energy quickly turned to anger like a spark lighting dry timber. The idiots, what good were they?! Their little heads bobbling on their necks, their hooves firmly planted in the street. They weren't even moving. Useless! Useless! Chaldor zipped back down to the ground.

"Where is my wife? Where is my child?!" he was starting to seem crazed. He barged back into the doctor's office. He stared down at the doctor's body. He felt his muscles were tense. Nothing, no amount of movement, seemed to be making them relax.

He started to shout at the doctor's body, "WHERE ARE THEY?!"

"Hey. HEY!" One of the guards was calling from outside of the office. He came in and wrestled Chaldor away from the body, "Yelling at him won't do anything!"

Chaldor nearly bit the guard, but even in his half-crazed state he managed to reconsider this terrible idea. Instead he started to lift into the air again, when he heard it:

"Chaldor?"

It was so soft, but he heard it. It was coming from the other side of the building, it seemed. His legs were stirred to action. He sped past the bricked side of the building, his vision blurring with tears. He knew the voice was Ichna's. His mind was screaming again... what had they done to her, what had they done?

But when he rounded the corner, he found her huddled in a small box, still bandaged. She was holding Kibeth. There was no blood around her. She was fine. She was untouched. In that moment he nearly felt his heart explode with the exertion of going so quickly from panic to relief. Tears poured down his cheeks.

"Ichna, Ichna, are you okay?" he dropped to his knees in front of her, craned his neck into the box to rub his muzzle against her bandaged one.

"Yes, yes, I... we are okay. It... it was so quick. I saw the doctor..." she was quiet a moment. He couldn't tell if she was trying to hold back tears or simply trying to remember. Meanwhile, one of the guards had rounded the corner and came upon them, but fell silent when he heard Ichna talking.

"I was napping. I was resting. Kibeth was with me, she was right next to me. The doctor hadn't had any visitors; when the door opened, a little bell went off. I heard it. And then... I heard the doctor. He sounded so displeased. He said something... something like 'what are you doing here? Get out!', and then I heard it. I heard him. He was screaming. He was screaming. It was so loud. Oh Am'hatai, he was screaming so loudly. I was scared, but... I felt my legs moving. I saw... I saw shadows against the sunlight. I think I startled them; I pushed right past them. I ran to this alley. I hid in this box. It feels like it was days ago... I don't know how long... he was screaming so loudly, but nobody came... nobody came...!"

She dissolved into tears at that point, as Chaldor held her close.

* * *

When Ichna was well enough to walk again, the guards escorted the couple back to the guard station, where they left another report. Despite their wounds, despite Ichna's gaunt face filled with fear, and the little filly they carried in a basket, the guards seemed more intent on cleaning up the doctor's body than finding the family safe shelter. It seemed too coincidental that the attack on the doctor had been separate from the intruders in their home. But what did the couple have that the thieves or attackers couldn't have gained while their home was abandoned? What had they done to upset somepony? They wracked their brains but came up with nothing, not a single thing that could have incited the attacks.

Finally Chaldor heaved a sigh and loosened the drawstring on the pouch around his neck, the one Alberno had given him. He dug his snout around, between the two sacks of coins, down to the bottom where he retrieved a tiny piece of paper with the dragon's notes scrawled in near-illegible hoofwriting in a light charcoal. He motioned toward Ichna, showed her the note.

"Do you think we should ask for some guards to be posted outside...?" The worries reflected in her large eyes, peeking out from the bandages on her face. Chaldor scoffed, but resorted to more hushed tones.

"They're of no use to us. If you like we can stop by the market and try to purchase a bodyguard..." He nosed around in his sack again. He knew how much money was inside. It was enough for a couple of weeks of food... or a couple of nights of protection. He looked back up at his wife, who had pulled Kibeth's basket closer between her front legs and was now looking down at her somewhat forlornly. The child was asleep and blessedly silent.

"Let's go," he decided. He thanked the guard nearest the door for their help as the family departed back into the sunlight, which was beginning to wane as clouds began to roll in and it sank in the sky.

In order to hurry, they took another cart ride into the market. The safehouse address Alberno had given Chaldor was relatively close by, so it was in their best interests to go in that direction as quickly as possible. It would be nightfall in a couple of hours, and darkness was an adequate cover for all sorts of unseemly business. Chaldor approached the Service district with Ichna in close tow behind him. They were already garnering stares from some of the ponies there, as they cantered under an archway, around an open plaza, and toward the alley where Chaldor knew a body guard or two had offered their services before. In turning a corner, he actually nearly ran into one.

"Watch where you're runnin'!" the broad, muscled Winged Unicorn shouted, his booming voice commanding attention even over the din of various salesponies plying their trades. Obviously he was trying to make a spectacle of himself. The more intimidating he looked, the more customers he would draw in. And he certainly looked intimidating. He was a deep navy color, his hair pale yellow in contrast, and he was striped all over with black zig-zags. His wings were folded back against his sides tightly, but they were still large and thick with feathers. His horn jutted from his forehead with a good few inches in length over most Winged Unicorns'. He had battle scars on his left cheek, his chest, even his flank, light blue scar tissue visible against the dark color of his fur.

He snorted, noticing Chaldor was looking him over.

"You're looking for some muscle?" the winged unicorn's chest flexed when he said 'muscle', and multitudes of them rippled across it, like a freakish wave of hardened, toned flesh.

"Y-yes," Chaldor gulped. He had tried to back away from the pony, but the pony scooted forward, bearing down on him, his steel gray eyes focused on the flutterpony's face. He was persistent.

"Yes, we're looking for a bodyguard. What do you charge?" Ichna had come out from around her husband. For a moment they could tell the pony was taken aback by Ichna's bandaged, concealed face, but the winged unicorn quickly recovered.

"Ten gold a day. Five if you only need me for the night." He snorted, pawed at the ground restlessly. Already his eyes were scanning the crowd behind them. Apparently he wasn't used to having his prices requested. Ichna mulled this over; Chaldor was still surprised she had stepped forward to talk.

"Will you do it for eight?"

The winged unicorn's eyebrows shot up in surprise as though he'd never been haggled with before. Selling himself out of the market, there was no way this could be the case; it was clearly a ploy. He was silent for a moment as his brow ridge slowly lowered back to its normal height and then began to decline as he considered.

He glared at Ichna, and the mare glared right back for a moment before picking up the basket Kibeth was in, pointedly, her gaze never leaving his. A little late to the party, Chaldor finally reacted and began to glare, as well.

Finally the winged unicorn heaved a sigh.

"I'll do it for eight, sure," he conceded, following quickly with, "... if you'll pay me half now."

Ichna looked to Chaldor, who seemed a mix of surprised and hesitant. They turned away from the pony a moment as Chaldor nosed into his leather pouch again, retrieving four gold from one of the smaller pouches within.

When he turned back around, he could see the bodyguard's eyes - as though they were magnetized - immediately attracted to the glitter of the currency. He looked as though he could drool at any moment, but he stayed stoic, even as Chaldor hoofed the money over.

"What's your name?" the flutterpony stallion finally asked, curious.

"Garf. That's it, just Garf. It's all you'll ever need to know, in case you need to call me."

"Garf," Chaldor tried. He felt he sounded like an aged dog barking with a mouthful of food.

"I am Chaldor, and this is Ichna, and my filly Kibeth. We need you to watch over the house we'll be staying in tonight."

"No problem," Garf nodded, once, and then stared at them, waiting to be led there.

As they turned away, Chaldor hissed, under his breath, to Ichna, "I don't know about this..."

Her ears twitched, but she didn't reply; her mouth was filled with Kibeth's basket, but she had nothing to tell him. She quite liked the brutish-looking winged unicorn and was certain he'd be at least some protection. Hopefully her feeling secure would be enough for Chaldor to reconsider.

* * *

Their residence for the night was not what Chaldor had been expecting.

When they reached the address they'd been given, they nearly circled the block twice before realizing they'd passed it. No address signified the run-down, hole-filled door was for a residence. It could have been some entrance to a cellar or boiler room for all anypony knew. And after Chaldor pushed the door open, he found his assessment wasn't too far off the mark.

The inside of the room was small, to say the least; not more than three ponies in width, and it looked as though it only went back into a single, smaller room. From the smell, they could tell it was probably the restroom. The main room was cramped with furniture; a bed fit for no more than one pony, a dresser missing several of its handles, a small table made from what looked like excess wood. The walls were bare and in desperate need of covering; they were nothing more than the building's original materials, darkened and dirtied with age.

Despite how harsh the surroundings seemed, there were some things to be thankful for. The bed seemed well-kept, with sheets and blankets tucked neatly around the edges of the mattress. There were no vermin nor insects in sight. Upon closer inspection there was a small cupboard near the floor on the other side of the bed. It had a small water pouch, a large loaf of what seemed to be relatively fresh bread, and a small bundle of fresh, green stalks of some sort. Probably what the locals called sweet-root, since opening the cupboard suddenly gave the tiny residence a more tolerable scent.

"Has a nice 'homey' feel to it," Garf remarked, over their shoulders, as he peeked in. Chaldor turned to glare at the unicorn.

"What? I need to assess your exits. And... it looks like you have none. Definitely wouldn't be my suggestion of a good place to stay. If I were you, I'd just sleep out in the open-..." he trailed off as Chaldor's glare became much more serious. Ichna was already turning to remove Kibeth from her basket. She looked tired, as if she could drop to the ground at any moment; she was clearly running on the small amount of energy she'd gained from her short nap in the late doctor's office.

"All right. Well, rest well. You'll be fine, if my gold has anything to say about it." He nodded before closing the door as he stepped back out into the alleyway.

Chaldor noticed Ichna was starting to sprawl out on the bed.

"You need to eat something, dear." He made his way carefully over to the tiny cupboard and pulled out the bundle of sweet-root, offering the whole of it to her. She cradled Kibeth close by; the filly was just beginning to wake up and was extremely hungry. She was yawning between almost every suckling.

Ichna seemed to look almost straight through Chaldor, and he began to worry.

"Please eat something," he coaxed. He held the sweet-root near her, waved it around by her nose. She sniffed and seemed a bit interested, so he started to feed her. It brought back memories of when she had been pregnant, too sick to get out of bed. It was actually nice... it felt _normal_.

When she was done eating, Chaldor ate a small amount of the bread, and then worked himself into as comfortable a position on the bed as he could while still trying to leave plenty of it for his wife and child. The darkness in the tiny, windowless room might have helped him get to sleep, if he hadn't been so tense. He could hear Ichna's slow breathing nearby; she had already fallen asleep, too tired to even protest against her eyes. Chaldor listened to it, feeling comforted that it was so close. He could even hear Kibeth, alongside it, though hers was a lighter breath, and she seemed to hiccough now and then. Before he knew it, hours had passed.

He'd barely heard anything outside, though, and he began to wonder... did Garf simply take off with their money? No, he didn't seem the type to do that. Chaldor tried to quiet his fears but new ones awakened: what if he'd been silenced, tied up, kidnapped? What if the intruders were just about to pop into the room and do... whatever it was they were planning on? He waited a moment and no one broke in but his mind repeated, what if they're going to break in NOW? How about NOW? What about NOW?

He felt almost paralyzed by the fear. He could feel his breath coming a bit faster and he tried to calm himself. He knew the best way to do this would be to simply stand up and go outside, so he mustered a bit of courage and carefully swung himself out of bed. The mattress creaked; Ichna shifted from her position, which made Kibeth bleat quietly. She cried for a moment but Ichna didn't awaken and shortly Kibeth went back to sleep, as well. Chaldor sighed, and quietly opened the door.

Garf was standing across the street. He'd somehow adorned himself in a brown traveler's cloak; Chaldor didn't even bother to wonder where it had come from. The winged unicorn had set himself up in a nonchalant-looking stance, leaning against the wall, juxtaposed from the door. There, he seemed to be passing his time playing games in the sand with his hooves. How he saw in the partial darkness of the alleyway - bathed only in moon and starlight - was anypony's guess. Chaldor suspected it was a good quality for a bodyguard to have, to be able to see well in the darkness.

"Shouldn't you be asleep? You're paying me an awful lot for you to be looking after yourself," Garf mused without even looking up from his game. Chaldor hoped the winged unicorn stallion couldn't see him blushing in the darkness.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Yeah, that'll happen when someone's after you," Garf mused in a tone that made it sound as though it was a common occurence. It probably was, for him.

"Any idea who's after you, anyway?" he asked.

"No; like I said on the trip here, we have no idea. Shortly after Kibeth was born, intruders came into our home..."

"Yeah, and attacked you, and then came lookin' for you at the market, and then came after Ichna at the doctor's; I heard alla that. I was just hoping you had some idea _why_. Ain't every day ponies get so persistently attacked for no reason. Usually they have _some_ idea. Your wife's sleepin'; your secret's safe with me. What is it, a bar tab? Gamblin' debts? Did you kill a pony? Piss off a town guard?"

"No, no, no, none of that!" Chaldor shook his head thoroughly.

Garf seemed to mull this over. He scribbled out whatever it was he'd been writing in the sand with his hoof.

"I can tell yer a good guy; yeah, you're not lying about it. Well, maybe we can figure it out," he turned and motioned to the portion of the wall next to him, "I got a knack for this stuff."

Chaldor sighed. He trotted over and ended up slumping down into a sitting position in the sand, his head drooping below his shoulders. Now he _did_ feel somewhat tired.

"So what did you do the day you got attacked?"

"Ichna sang Kibeth a lullaby; I heard her from the bedroom. I wheeled the crib in so she could sleep with her-..."

"No, no, gruel-for-brains, I meant, what did you do _that day_, before you were attacked that evening?"

"N-nothing, really," Chaldor tried to remember, "We had breakfast. Then we took a cart into the market to take Kibeth to the doctor's. We shopped around in the market a bit, and headed home. Ichna straightened around the house; I wove a basket or two. I cooked lunch, she cooked dinner. Then we went to bed..." Chaldor shook his head hopelessly.

"Where did you shop in the market?" Garf's ears had seemed to prick up as Chaldor had described their day. Chaldor looked up at the bodyguard, his hazy memory trying to come back into focus.

"Uhhh... the produce dealer on 23rd, you know, the one across from that creepy old goat-of-a-pony who sells those clay pots. He sold us some sweet-root, some grain. Then I think we visited a jewelry stall or two; Ichna loves to look at that stuff. The more expensive, the better!"

"Ain't that always the way," Garf chuckled.

"That was it, though," Chaldor concluded, nodding his head as if to confirm it for himself.

"So..." Garf paused, then continued, "who was this doctor you saw?"

"He said his name was... er... Doctor Tanderr. He was in the 15th district. It took us a while to find him; it seemed like an odd place to have an office."

"Hmmm, yeah, that does sound odd." Garf went quiet. Several moments passed, with the winged unicorn simply looking up at the stars, his heavy breathing - a slight wheeze to it that Chaldor had never noticed - the only sound aside from sand-tickers, tiny bugs that emitted a faint 'tick, tick, tick' noise by slapping their wings on their back, never to any sort of rhythm. Thankfully there were usually only a few in any given distance; tonight it simply sounded like the soft 'tick, tick, tick' of beans hitting a plate as a grain vendor plied his trade.

"I think I've heard of your doctor before," Garf finally concluded. Chaldor's ears immediately perked up; he turned to look up at the winged unicorn and quickly got to his feet.

"What do you mean you've heard of him?"

"I mean he's had some shady dealings," Garf raised an eyebrow, "of course."

"I've heard he's not much of a healer; he's more of a potion-slinger than anything. His remedies are all potions and salves and pills. Nothing that'll guarantee you'll get better. Not like magic. I've seen him at the arcane bookstore before. I found it odd; what kind of pony doctor would shop at a store with books about magic but then never use it in his trade? I just assumed it was a hobby, maybe a quirk of his. Doctors ain't the most sane ponies in the world, yannow?"

"The midwives recommended him to us, for Kibeth's-..." Chaldor stopped short. Garf snorted.

"Her what? You gotta tell me this sorta stuff if you want me to help you out."

"For a scab on her forehead," Chaldor fidgeted, but finally offered up.

"A scab? Really? They sent you to a doctor for a scab? Don't sound like well-trained midwives, eh..."

"Not just any scab," Chaldor interjected, "It's rather large. And right in the center of her forehead. It looks like... no, it's silly. It's just a scab."

Garf cocked his head. Chaldor could see the moonlight reflecting off his large, and curious but skeptical eyes.

"It looks like a horn," Chaldor finally heaved out of himself. He instantly felt like some sort of weight had been lifted off him. Now he really did feel tired.

"Pfffht," Garf blew it off immediately.

"I know; I told you, it's silly. But the doctor gave us this salve... it sounded like it was something normal. I've just... never heard of it before. The midwives had seemed so frightened. I guess it was for nothing..."

"Well, I'll keep tryin' to think for ya. I see your eyelids aren't pulling their weight anymore; you might want to get back in there with the missus. She'll start to wonder why the bed's getting so cold."

Chaldor nodded softly. He thought a moment about what he was about to do; it seemed strange considering he was paying the winged unicorn already.

"Thanks for your help, Garf."

"Meh, don't mention it; gold's thanks enough," he huffed, and turned his attention away. Chaldor sighed; he should have known better.

He retreated back to the run-down door, opening it as quietly as he could. Ichna was still asleep; Kibeth was curled up at her side. Chaldor admired the sight for a moment or two, hoping he wouldn't disturb it, before his knees began to cry at him to get his weight off of them. He slid thankfully into the bed, hearing his muscles and bones creak with weariness. It was only minutes before he was beginning to snore, more loudly than his wife and filly combined.


	4. Chapter 4 - The Attack

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Four - The Attack_

Garf, outside, was still thinking. He started to do so aloud, though quietly, to himself.

"Doctor Tanderr, huh. 'S not the name I thought you were going by, Charke. I knew you changed it often to get away from your mistakes, but... Tanderr? Really? It makes you sound a bit too sophisticated. Definitely too sophisticated for others' good if you're gonna be swindlin' 'em like that."

"But still... a flutterpony with a horn. I bet that'd fetch a high price on the hidden market. I've heard the horns alone go for more gold than could fit in any pony's home. I wonder why you didn't just ask to keep the child overnight. Why send goons to do your work when the parents seem clueless... unless... you're working for someone else..."

Garf, suddenly feeling he was being watched, took a quick glance around. There was no one. He felt his skin crawling, a sure sign something was up; his fur was beginning to stand on end. He never distrusted his intuition; this moment was no exception. He kept peering into the darkness. Up on the roofs. Down both ends of the alleyway. He carefully slid through the sand, snaking quietly around a corner and looking down the streets. No one was out; not even the guards would be wandering around these alleyways at this hour.

A raven cawed from a nearby rooftop, nearly startling the bones right out of Garf's body. He willed himself to be still, even as his heart fluttered.

There really was nopony there.

Garf started to question his intuition, then. Was he really acting like a colt spooked by the dark for absolutely no reason? It had rarely failed him before. But there was nothing around him. _Nothing_. The darkness was the same as usual. The 'tick, tick, tick' of the sand-tickers continued. He heard the raven's feathers rustling as it adjusted itself on its perch.

And then he heard the door creak.

In a flash, his gaze was directed toward the door. It creaked open further and Garf could see Chaldor's prone body on the bed, sleeping soundly next to his wife, curled around her filly. The door kept opening inward; it took Garf several minutes before he realized what was happening.

"Hey, hey, HEY!" Garf shouted as he charged at the door, at what he assumed was some sort of invisible intruder. He was correct. His shouting startled the unknown menace out of his concentration. A cloaked figure materialized by the door, the depths of his hood turning to regard the winged unicorn, though he knew not with what emotion.

He suddenly felt a bit weightless. He struggled against the feeling and felt as though he were swimming through the air; no ground offered friction or resistance. It was as though he were flying without expending any energy or flapping his wings; levitation. He might've enjoyed it if it were any other time, but right now it was being used to subdue him. He glared down at the magic-user, champing, his legs flailing and wings flapping as he struggled.

He saw Chaldor through the door again, though. The flutterpony had woken up; he woke Ichna before leaping out of bed and charging the cloaked pony, who - being busy with Garf - muttered a 'hunf!' before falling back, and releasing his hold on Garf.

The winged unicorn dropped to the ground - a good five or six feet below him - with a soft 'whump'. His legs crumpled momentarily underneath his bulk but he willed himself back to his hooves almost immediately, just as the cloaked pony was gaining his own footing again.

Between the two of them, Chaldor and Garf, they managed to hold the masked menace down to the sand. Chaldor pummeled the pony with his front hooves. Garf shoved the flutter off their would-be assailant and de-hooded him. A unicorn's head peeked out from the dark robes, a deep shade of crimson with pale pink hair. He looked momentarily started before his countenance drew down in disgust.

"Not so easy..." he wheezed through a couple of cracked ribs and the pressure Garf was continuing to put on him. And then once again Garf felt the solid support beneath him disappear; his front hooves landed roughly in the cloak the unicorn had left behind in the sand. There was no substance; the body was gone. Likely, with such Twilight powers - the energies that, unlike other magical elements, were mostly unseen and more related to the mind - he had teleported himself away. He had clearly been a powerful magic-user. And where there was one powerful magic-user, well... there were generally more.

"We have to leave," Garf muttered. Chaldor had moved away, stepping back into the small hideout to check on Ichna and Kibeth; his wife had only just now shaken off her sleep and been able to react, and when Chaldor told her what happened, her eyes flew open wide.

Garf's imposing figured blocked the light entering the room as he stepped into the doorway.

"We have to leave _NOW_," he said gruffly, with all of the authority he could muster. Chaldor started trying to gather some things.

"No, you fool! We have to _go_! Bring your wife, your child... leave all else. They'll be upon us in a moment. Any moment you give them to catch us is enough!" He lashed out, nipping at the flutterpony stallion's croup and withers.

Chaldor whinnied and thrashed, his twitching back hooves nearly kicking over the table in the corner of the room.

"I'm coming; we're coming!" he stuttered before moving aside so Ichna could step out into the alleyway. Kibeth was awake. Though she looked afraid - her giant, pleading eyes staring up at her father - for one of the first times since she'd been born, he got to see her walk. On wobbly legs she stepped down the few inches from the opening to the tiny room, but she looked ready to run. Ready enough.

Chaldor felt his heart aching; his daughter was ready to run. He saw her wings flexing as she considered trying to fly. He'd spent so little time these past few days with her, he had no idea she'd already grown so much.

Garf was ahead of them. The winged unicorn glanced back over his well-muscled shoulder to make certain they were following him before he started off at a sprint down one of the thinner alleyways; there was only room for two ponies to stand side-by-side as they trotted down. Ichna ran alongside Kibeth, with Chaldor behind them.

"Where are we going, now?" Ichna hissed, near-breathless even though they'd just begun to run. Garf was silent; he twisted quickly around a corner, sprinted down it, twisted again down a longer, darker alleyway.

Chaldor stumbled as he crashed into a trashcan, well-hidden by the darkness. An upset cat yowled and scrambled away. All of this frightened Kibeth; the filly whinnied and pushed herself forward. Her legs tangled in front of her and she went down into the sand, chin-first. Chaldor might've trampled her if he hadn't been quick-thinking enough; instead he grabbed her up by the scruff of her neck and began to run with her. He could feel the strain in his neck-muscles pulling at his jaw and behind his ears, but the fire only moved him forward more quickly.

Garf took another turn, this time into a different district; the walls of the buildings were blue. They were in one of the richer districts of the city. It was also where many of the schools, libraries, banks, and other institutions were located. They swept through a wide, cobbled street, their hooves ringing loudly on the large stones beneath. Garf looked left, right, as if trying to get his bearings, before making a sharp turn toward a square wherein stood a statue of a rearing pegasus pony, wings stretched out as if trying to touch the sky. Chaldor hadn't recalled ever seeing this statue before but he had little time to admire it; they were already racing past it, down another alleyway to their left.

"What... about flying...?" he huffed. He was so used to using his wings instead of his legs. He could tell Ichna was quickly tiring, too.

"Not safe; too visible," Garf responded, muffled, succinct. Suddenly he slid to a halt.

"We're on the outskirts..." he whispered back over his shoulder.

"Of the city?!" Chaldor nearly cried; he thought about it early enough to silence it to a strident hiss.

"Yes, of course. We're getting out of here. There is no place safe for you, here. But no one will venture into the desert..."

"Because it is death!" Ichna hissed, perhaps more commanding than even Chaldor. She furiously shook her head, pawed at the bandages on her face until they came off, revealing ugly, if clean, scabs.

"And staying here isn't?" Garf turned on them. His eyes were blazing, angry. He was still embarrassed he'd nearly been snuck past. He didn't dare tell them what secret their daughter hid. Knowing now would be of no good to them.

"I know some of the trade routes," he snorted, finally, "I can get you traveling with a caravan, across the desert. You just need to lay low for... a few years."

Ichna silently regarded her husband. Tears were pooling at the rims of her eyes, threatening to reach their brims and pour over, down her cheeks. He set Kibeth on the ground, and looked down at her; the filly looked back up with similarly tear-filled eyes. She was the spitting image of her mother, save for her hide's coloring. He looked between the two of them slowly.

"If my family will be safe..."

"Of course they will," Garf cut him off, "I can guarantee it. IF you follow me out of town... NOW. If we dawdle any longer..."

"Fine." Chaldor said, his brow lowering over his eyes in determination. Ichna looked startled for a moment before resigning herself to this fate. Kibeth just looked between her parents, still frightened. Garf noticed this. He hesitated to say it; he'd probably regret it...

"Put the child on my back. I will carry her. I saw the caravan's head trademaster in the square late this afternoon; they will have packed and left early this evening, and gotten several hours into the desert before going to sleep."

Ichna looked terrified at the suggestion, but Kibeth had now sat down in the sand. Her head was beginning to bob. She pawed restlessly at the scab on her forehead with a hoof. She looked ready to simply fall asleep.

Not wanting to waste another moment, Chaldor picked her up and set her carefully on Garf's back.

"Let's go," he spat, immediately; his wings shifted around on his back to allow the foal room and shield her somewhat. He dug at the sand with a front hoof and looked over his shoulder at the flutterpony couple. Hopefully they'd be able to keep up the pace for a couple of hours. He knew exactly in which direction to head, and it would just be a matter of their following.

He didn't know Charke well, but he knew him well enough to know he was like any other pony, even some of the mages: he hated the desert and was frightened of marauders. That fear could work for them, if _they_ could manage to avoid the ruthless groups, themselves. It was usually a bit safer at night. He was about to take off when he noticed Ichna's eyes were closed.

"Am'hatai protect us..." she whispered, sounding hopeless. She was praying to the Mother of All, the pony-human-goddess who had supposedly created Azuyan long before the ponies ever existed upon it. Garf tried not to roll his eyes; he didn't believe the majority of any of the religious teachings, but he supposed if any time were a good time for prayer, it was now.

"Are we ready?" he asked again, letting impatience give his voice an irritated edge.

"Yes," Chaldor and Ichna replied simultaneously.

Without another word, the group bolted across the open courtyard of space between the alley they were hiding in, and the closed doors that were the exit of the city. They reached the gates, where the guards were more than happy to let them leave; they mostly existed to keep people from coming in. They chuckled as they let the group through, and loudly started taking bets on whether any of the ponies would return, and if so, in how many pieces.

Garf gulped. This would be only his second time trekking out into the desert. He liked to think he knew more this time. He also liked to think Chaldor would be happy to give him more than 4 gold pieces for all of this trouble.


	5. Chapter 5 - The Desert

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Five - The Desert_

The first half-hour was slow going. The flutters couldn't find their footing on the soft sands; their legs kept slipping, tangling, betraying them as they were thrown time and again face-first into the sand dunes, the impact made all the worse by their haste. It was almost depressing to watch for Garf; he was glad he had offered to carry Kibeth. The filly was lightweight and had slept since they'd left town, apparently soothed by the rocking motion and soft thrum of hoofbeats as his flanks flexed and he kicked up dust in his wake.

Finally the flutterponies decided to take to the sky. "Fly low," Garf warned them. He didn't like the idea, namely because ponies were much harder to see as they traversed the dips and rises of the giant dunes whereas they were easily visible in the air, but if it meant they would reach the caravan faster - especially before the sun rose, since the gypsies were early risers and liked to move while it was still cool and the sun was dusting the slopes of sand - then so be it.

He was starting to feel a bit ragged of breath when they reached the hour mark. Chaldor, above, noticed him stumble and immediately dropped to his aid. The winged unicorn couldn't tell if the flutter stallion was more concerned for him or the filly. Unfortunately the stumble awoke Kibeth, who immediately began crying for a feeding.

"Shut the damnable child up!" he hissed as Ichna flew in low and lightly landed next to him, giving him an upset look that spoke volumes. Grumbling, he stepped a few paces away to shake the sand off his fur and examine his sore ankles. It had been a long time since he'd last runned at such a pace for such a distance and he felt embarrassingly out-of-shape. Of course, most of his assignments required only that he look intimidating and be able to throw his weight around; it was rare that he had to chase a suspect down. Let alone run away from one.

After the feeding, they picked their pace back up and ran another hour and a half before they rose to a crest of sand and saw a large basin spreading out before them. Perhaps a mile away lay a green spot; a couple of trees - some sort of fruit-laden palms - were visible, as was the surface of a pool of water, probably a spring, only identifiable due to the moon's reflection on its surface. There was also clearly a small ring of wagons, six or seven pulled in a tight circle so the glow from the fire within was barely noticeable. The smoke, however, hit the eyes and faces of the flutter couple and their bodyguard almost immediately.

"If we slide down this dune, we'll be out of the way of the rising smoke. Then it'll be a short distance to the caravan," he motioned them onward, pointing with his large skewer of a horn before sliding down the dunes as an example. Kibeth stayed solidly on his back. Chaldor and Ichna watched for a moment before following suit, not wanting to be left behind in the darkness and eager to reach the caravan as much as Garf was.

Chaldor paused a moment. His wings fluttered, the darkness dimming their iridescence but moonlight setting glints off the sparkles there. He looked back over his shoulder. He couldn't even see it in the distance anymore, the town they'd left behind, because it had disappeared behind the dips and swells of the desert landscape. Suddenly he wondered, _what am I doing here? All the way out in the desert... I'm not a desert pony. I wasn't meant for this sort of life. All because of that night... and the doctor's office... and the hideout. The attacks._ How did he know what the reason was? Why did Garf seem more concerned than they were?

He watched the winged unicorn sliding down the dune and gaining his footing at the end, immediately kicking into a gallop. Ichna caught herself before the end and lifted gracefully into the air. Chaldor's gaze stayed on them for several moments before his eyes narrowed and he leapt off the dune's crest, into the sky, the crisp, cold night air catching his wings as they began to hum with flight. Suddenly fueled by anger, he zipped along until he'd reached Garf, and dropped down in front of the bodyguard, immediately taking an aggressive stance.

"What do you know about this?" His breath puffed out in front of him, a tiny white cloud floating upward, as he demanded an explanation from the winged unicorn, who was just then skidding to a halt. Garf's wings flew up, protectively cradling the small child on his back.

There was a tense moment before Garf answered. He'd already gotten them this far out into the desert; it's not as though there was much more demanded by his job. If he wanted he could just demand payment, turn around, and head back to town. Part of him - that pesky part that seemed to turn up only when he was doing something his mother might've said was reprehensible - wanted to tell them the truth. At least, as much as he knew of it. But how to break it to them...? What if they asked him for answers?

Well, it was none of his business, he supposed. He just wanted the gold; then after warming up by the gypsy fire he could leave all of this behind him and go afford some pints at the bar. Lots of pints.

"Keep your voice down; the caravans have good hearing. We better hope they don't think we're marauders approaching..." he finally responded, scoffing.

"Your daughter's growing a horn."

"No!" Ichna gasped, behind him. Chaldor just continued to glare at Garf. Either the stallion didn't believe him, or had already come to much the same conclusion.

"Yes, and that 'doctor' you saw was a pretty well-known con-artist. Not like you could've known that... obviously they're good at hiding that sort of thing. I'd say he was sending some cronies after her to get the horn - they're somewhat of a curiosity on the hidden market, I'm sure you can understand why - except that he doesn't tend to get very palsy-walsy with magicians. Especially not ones as powerful as the one who came after us in the alley. He's naturally not a very trusting individual, so he tends not to associate with ponies who are more powerful than he is."

"Which leads me to believe he's working for someone," the winged unicorn concluded.

"Who? Who?!" Chaldor begged as he stomped forward, looking defiantly upward at the scarred bodyguard as though he'd attack him at any moment despite their great difference in size.

"I don't know. Am'hatai, I'm just a pony, I told you everything I know. Don't you think I would've told you more if I could have?"

"Well," Ichna came around from the back of Garf, facing him now herself, her cheeks pinched with worry as they had been several times these past few days, "if her horn is worth so much, why didn't _you_ take her?"

"Pffht!" Garf flushed, "Hidden market's not my hangout. I may get caught up in gossip sometimes, but the moment you put your hoof into the hidden market in some form, you're stuck there. And I've heard what happens to ponies in that trade. Nope, none for me. Just give me an honest day's gold and I'll be fine. Nothing in the hidden market but _trouble_." Though the winged unicorn said he'd never dabbled in it, it sounded as though he were speaking from experience. Something shone in his eyes; he was definitely telling the truth.

"The midwives told us it was just a scab..." Ichna lamented.

"In a week or so, it'll grow, and grow 'till it pops off," Garth nodded matter-of-factly. Then he added, "Er... so I hear. I've never seen it, myself."

"What can we do?" It was Chaldor's turn to voice his concerns.

"Just run. Run and keep running. Find someplace remote to stay," Garf shrugged. He was getting tired of this; he was no doctor, he clearly didn't care.

"For the rest of our lives...?" Chaldor trailed off, his blank face looking to Ichna's, which looked pained.

"Unless you can find a doctor that can remove it," he shrugged his shoulders again. His glance moved to the firelight flickering through the wagon wheels of the caravan in front of them. He felt his skin crawling; the running had kept them warm this whole time, but desert nights were cold, and he was starting to feel goose pimples creeping along his flesh, raising the hairs on his body.

"Whatever you do, you'll need to keep her face covered from the gypsies. Some of them are pretty superstitious, and if you want to live on a journey across the desert, you'll need to be on their side. So... just do your best."

"Now, can I have that gold? And maybe a little extra for my troubles, huh?" He motioned to Kibeth on his back, who was still snoring away soundly. Ichna stepped over and pulled her daughter off his back, her eyes half-lidded in forlorn thought.

"Fine, for the information," Chaldor felt a sigh escape him almost involuntarily. He was starting to feel chilly, himself. "But only if you'll take us all the way to the gypsies. You seem to know them better than we do."

"Deal," Garf nodded.

He and Chaldor helped fashion some of Ichna's face bandages into a cover for the scab on Kibeth's forehead. The filly woke up and began to cry for a suckling, but Ichna sang a little to her to quiet her. They were eager to get to the campsite. Kibeth was probably starting to feel cold, herself; she was abnormally fussy, squirming and kicking as Ichna carried her and the group made their way to the circle of wagons.


	6. Chapter 6 - The Caravan

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Six - The Caravan_

It wasn't sunrise when Fletch's voice rang out across the camp, a clear, sing-song call much different from the deep voice Chaldor had heard the night before.

"Let's up 'fore the sun does! Hup, hup, hup! Pick up your rear, pick up your gear, pull up the tent pegs, ready your legs! Forward ho!"

"Unnnh..." Chaldor moaned. It took him a second to remember where he was; when he did, he quickly shook Ichna awake. She looked just as startled as him, but didn't make a sound. Instead she roused Kibeth, and as Chaldor began to disassemble the tent, she brought the foal toward the firepit at the center of the camp.

The difference, this morning, was that many ponies were surrounding the fire. A delicious smell was wafting through the camp. Ichna saw foals scampering away from the fire with mouthfuls of something, while the adult ponies lingered to discuss things. Many of them had their eyes on her and her child - her forehead still bandaged - as they approached.

"Is... somepony cooking breakfast?" she asked, hesitant, unsure if they would be allowed any. She wasn't sure at all how this society of travelers worked.

"Aye, that'd be Thighmaster, but he's left. Breakfast is on the fire; grab some fer yourself," a nearby pegasus motioned with his muzzle in the direction of the fire. As Ichna approached she noticed there was a huge pot sitting on the dying embers and coals of the fire, keeping warm. She peeked in and noticed a thick, white, creamy stew of sorts, still bubbling within. There was a ladle. Bowls shaped out of bread sat on a large, flat stone nearby, probably keeping warm as well.

"Stay here," she said to Kibeth, who peered up at her with curious eyes. Ichna gathered a bowl for herself, and as she returned with it hanging from her mouth, she noticed Garf was standing nearby the child, talking down to her. She approached and set the bowl in the sand, trying to protect it with her front hooves. Garf noticed her approaching and seemed embarrassed for a moment.

"Uh, er, just saying my goodbyes," he looked away from her.

"Of course. I'm surprised you didn't bolt in the night," Ichna chuckled, before leaning her neck down to lap up a bit of the stew. It was warm and delicious. She couldn't place the ingredients at all, but all that mattered was that it was edible. Her grumbling stomach thanked her. So did Kibeth, who - bearing a happy grin - immediately trotted over to suckle.

"If you need Chaldor," Ichna said between mouthfuls of the stew, "he's over taking down the tent."

"Thanks," Garf responded. He dug a hoof around in the sand for a moment, still not looking toward her.

"I... hope this works out for your family. Good luck." And then he was gone. What a strange pony, Ichna thought, but her thoughts soon drifted off to what tasks lay ahead for the day. She hadn't listened to all of Chaldor's discussion with Fletch but she assumed they'd be doing work for the caravan somehow.

As Garf approached, Chaldor was just wrapping up the last of the tent pieces. He seemed to be having trouble; as such the winged unicorn's approach startled him out of his concentration.

"Woah, uh, hey, good morning, Garf," he stuttered in his surprise.

"Just come to say goodbye. And pick up my payment, of course," he bent down and quickly wrapped up Chaldor's tent as though he'd done it several times before.

"Payment, yes, of course," the leather sack still swung easily around Chaldor's neck, still full of the pieces he'd promised both Garf and Fletch. He nosed into the sack and felt around; each coin was shaped differently so he could feel them with his lips.

"Uh, here," he finally said, pulling out ten gold pieces - over double the amount he had already paid Garf as a down-payment on their deal of eight pieces - and handing them to the winged unicorn, who took them and deposited them in his own sack, under his wing and out of sight. Chaldor watched as Garf stowed them; it left him with only two gold pieces and other change, the last of the savings he'd kept at his basket-weaving stall in the merchant's market.

"Thanks. Good luck with your trip," Garf turned to leave.

"Hey, wait! Could you... could I get you to do a favor for me?" Chaldor pleaded.

"It depends..." Garf looked back over his shoulder. If it took him out of his way, he'd demand payment; this had already been costly enough... who knew what chances he'd missed to offer his services while he'd been out on this silly errand.

"Just... in the market, there's a tinker, a dragon named Alberno. He runs the shop across from mine. Could you... thank him for the hideout and tell him I won't be back for a while? He... I suppose he can run the shop if he really wants to," Chaldor sighed.

Garf seemed to be thinking about it a moment.

"Yeah, sure, why not. Doesn't put me too far out of my way; I think I've seen the guy on my way to the service district. I'll let him know."

"Oh, thank you," Chaldor's countenance seemed to light up a bit.

There was an awkward silence as Garf watched the flutter stallion and the flutter watched him back. Then, Garf turned tail and quickly trotted out of the ring of wagons. Chaldor thought for a moment about chasing after him, maybe watching him out on the sands until he disappeared, but he had better things to do. Instead he sent a wish into the skies that Am'hatai would watch the winged unicorn that had protected them and helped them get this far.

* * *

The wagon circle slowly began to unwind itself. First a single wagon was hitched up to a pair of ponies - both extremely strong-looking earthponies, a male and female, perhaps a husband and wife judging by the way they exchanged loving glances - and it began to turn, to roll in a direction to their east. This left room for the next wagon to be hitched. A particularly large unicorn set himself to this task. His wagon looked somewhat smaller than the others but it was clear from the ripple of his muscles that it took great strength to move, and that he had it. One by one the wagons were hitched to ponies and began to roll along, their large, thick wheels - which had odd leather flaps on them that Chaldor shortly realized helped them stay above and grip the sand they rolled on - rolling placidly forward, until all that was left was a single wagon which was taking some time to move forward.

"Stuck in a rut," Chidira buzzed up alongside Chaldor, her wings fluttering quickly but her eyes focused on the wagon, "Snutch is gonna have a hard time dis mornin'."

"Maybe I should help...?" Chaldor offered, a bit doubtfully.

"Er... if you think you can..?" she responded, sounding equally dubious.

Chaldor approached the ponies who were ringed around the wagon: one pale yellow pegasus dotted with maroon splotches, lashed to the front of the wagon, who looked the most concerned of all and thus was probably the 'Snutch' Chidira was talking about. The others were Fletch, and a gray earthpony Chaldor hadn't had the pleasure of meeting. The two of them were pushing hard on the back end of the wagon, grunting as their hooves slipped in the sand and they got nowhere.

"I can try to help," he offered to them, fluttering into the air. He pulled up over their heads, found a sound piece of the wagon's wall to shove on, and put as much strength as he could spare into fluttering his wings as he put the rest into his shoulder. Flutterpony wings were capable of a sort of 'overdrive' that was commonly referred to as 'utter flutter,' and could be used in short bursts to achieve rapid flight, among other things. Without thinking, Chaldor shifted his energy into pumping his wings as rapidly as possible.

Even as the wagon lurched forward from its rut, Chaldor was sending sand up in a small dust storm, which whirled and spat sand in the eyes and noses of Fletch and his poor earthpony helper below. They started to yell just as Chaldor realized what he was doing and quickly fluttered backward, then dropped to the ground.

Shaking himself off, Fletch turned an irritated gaze on Chaldor.

"If you're gonna do that again, you're gonna do it by yourself behind this 'ere wagon," he sounded a mix of upset and bemused.

"At least we got it un-stuck," the gray earthpony said in a dull, drooping tone; he sounded depressed despite the good news he was relaying.

"Hey, thanks guys!" Snutch called back over the wagon frame, as he began to move forward and try to catch up with the others.

"S-sorry... I didn't think about it," Chaldor looked embarrassed; he tried to change the subject, "So I'm on lookout today? Is there a certain post I need to take? Some wagon I need to protect, specifically?"

"Just keep up with everyone and keep your eyes on the sands ahead and around," Fletch shook sand particles out of his mane and began to trot after the wagons, "Don't get tired. Staring at all of that sand and walking in the heat is more work and rigorous on the eyes than you might think. Before you know it you'll be sleepwalking. Watch out for it."

"Oh, I will!" Chaldor called as he fluttered quickly after to catch up. He was eager to do well despite his errors; the last thing he wanted to do was be abandoned by the caravan, especially when they'd offered his family a place to stay and didn't seem curious about what they were running from, which was a blessing in itself.

* * *

Ichna was a little confused about where she fit in. She trotted along with the wagons as they departed, not noticing Chaldor had stuck behind with the lagging one. Kibeth trotted alongside her, beaming up at her, seeming more awake and alert than she had in previous days. Ichna tried to ignore the nagging feeling that she should take the bandage off the child's head; it was so out-of-place considering the filly was entirely unhurt. But she knew what lurked beneath...

"Mornin' to ya," a plump-looking fairypony, a red-purple color with strikingly yellow hair, trotted up alongside her. This seemed a bit odd to Ichna for some reason, until she realized the fairy was missing a wing. She had a sudden pang of sympathy as she realized the fairypony couldn't fly.

The fairy must have recognized the emotion in her gaze.

"Oh, do'nae worry, it's been gone since birth, I never known what's like ta fly so I ain't missin' nottin'!" she drawled congenially. Ichna's gaze still looked pitiful but the fairy tried to ignore it.

"My name's Gretchun, suga, what's yours, then?"

"Ichna... my name is Ichna. And this is Kibeth," she replied just as the filly peeked from around her legs. They were trotting and it was difficult for Kibeth to keep up pace with her mother in order to hide from the stranger but she seemed determined anyway.

"So Ichna, I hear yer on lookout this week."

"Oh, yes, that's what Chaldor told me. But I have no idea what I'm doing..." Ichna trailed off, uncertain.

"Pretty simple, ya jus' look fer ponies comin' at us," Gretchun giggled, a low-pitched noise, the effort of which jiggled her girth.

Ichna smiled, only a little as she tended to do, and took a deep breath of the desert air. It was smoother than the air of the city they'd left behind, and as she directed her gaze to the deep azure, cloudless sky above their heads, she wondered if she really could come to enjoy the life of a gypsy. Unfortunately she was taken away from her introspection by the sudden knowledge that her legs were already starting to tire. It would be a long time before the family was ready for long trips. And without Garf along, she had no idea what she would do with Kibeth when the tyke tired. Would they allow her a spot in a wagon?

"Gretchun, where are all of the foals?"

"Oh, aye, hun, t' ones that kin take the walkin', they usually walk t' the fore, but there's a wagon just fer them, when their little hoofsies get tired, eh?" The fairypony leaned closer to Ichna, craning her neck to try to get a better glimpse of Kibeth. A short 'bzzt, bzzt' noise emitted from the filly as she tried to flap her wings, an attempted fear-fueled response to the stranger's closeness.

"How old is t' wee filly, anyhow?" Gretchun lifted her eyes to Kibeth.

Ichna hesitated.

"Just over a week," she finally offered.

"Oh my," Gretchun gasped, "what a young age t' be travelin'. And so soon after y' gave birth, too..."

"It had to be done," Ichna's reply was stony and not at all accepting of further discussion. Gretchun seemed to understand this.

"Mayhap we otter put 'er in oner t' lead wagons; she'll be tuckerin' out soon otterwise," she suggested, her head motioning to the wagon second from the front, one with a large green patch on the canvas 'roof'.

Ichna grasped Kibeth up by the scruff of her neck and found the filly was already becoming too heavy for her to try to run with. Instead she spurred Kibeth foreward with a nip at her croup, and together the three ponies managed to reach the wagon. The pony pulling it nickered as they approached, and shortly Chidira - apparently a well-known face around the camp, considering how often she showed up - popped her head out of the wagons' opening.

"Oy, hun, could ye take on t' filly fer us?" Gretchun called over the thundering of hooves and loud creaking of wagon wheels.

"Yes, mum," the youngster sighed, suppressing an eyeroll. She helped Ichna drag Kibeth - who began kicking and fussing as she realized her mother was going to be out of her sight - up into the wagon. Ichna's eyes followed the filly. Worry crept into her chest. Gretchun could see it in her eyes.

"Aw, she'll be fine, miss, you jus' keep yer eyes on the sands. I'll let ya know when a couple o' hours've passed and ye kin come feed her," the fairypony began to drop back away from the wagon, then, slackening her pace. Ichna took one glance back at the wagon before dropping back, as well.


	7. Chapter 7 - The Oasis

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Seven - The Oasis_

The day went by without incident. Chaldor and Ichna took more frequent breaks than their more-seasoned counterparts, but there were no marauders and the sunny day had everyone in a good mood and traveling quickly. Chaldor was actually surprised when he noticed it was starting to become darker out, twilight setting in by slowly turning the world dim and the sky purple. He had felt the sun on his back for quite some time but for some reason it simply hadn't registered that it would soon be nightfall 'till he heard Fletch call, with a high whistle, for the stop of the caravan. Wagons ground to a halt, wheels slowing their turning before suddenly veering to the left as each wagon followed the next in snake-like efficiency to create a large coil.

Ponies unhooked themselves from the wagons and immediately went to work on building a fire. The logs that were salvageable from the previous night's fire were piled at the bottom of the stack, and fresh logs - some still green and filled with moisture - were dropped on top of the pile. Dry brush - brownish needles and thin, spiked leaves of various plants - was packed into the bottom of the fire in various places before ponies began carrying rocks to the fireside and laying them in a circle around it, creating a barrier so the wood wouldn't slide out and away into the sand.

Chaldor watched all of this in awe. In mere minutes - perhaps fifteen or twenty - the ponies had created an entire bonfire base, and all that was left was to light it. The sun was dipping fast beyond the dune-filled horizon and absently the flutter stallion wondered why it was taking them so long to light something it had taken only fifteen minutes to create.

Then he realized all of the ponies from the caravan were coming out of their wagons, bringing their children. He saw Ichna helping Kibeth down out of the wagon with Chidira, who quickly cantered over to where the ponies were beginning to form a ring around the fire.

Fletch was muttering something, almost as though he were chanting, but it was loud enough for all of the surrounding ponies to hear. Ichna approached Chaldor and looked to him questioningly; silently he motioned to an open spot in the circle and trotted over to stand solidly in it.

"Let the fire bless our family and the sands never consume them, and let Am'hatai's thousand eyes light the way," they had just caught the end; Fletch finished, leaving silence to consume the ponies as the blanket of darkness made ponies visible only by the stars, the eyes he'd just referenced. He took a deep breath.

Suddenly a tiny flame sprang from his horn and fell, almost floating toward the carefully-constructed fire. The tiny flame danced; it almost seemed to grow legs, like a pony's. It shimmied and swayed, its red-orange mane and tail swishing around it enticingly, its hooves stepping to some silent beat. It reared. The fire-pony's mouth opened and suddenly the opening rolled backward; the pony's mouth consumed itself, its fire-muzzle stretching into a ring and looping backward around its body. The flame became a tiny orb. It sharpened to a point at the top. It became another large flame, and suddenly it fell toward the ground, toward the tinder and dry logs at the bottom of the pile.

The fire blazed to life, then, immediately warming the ponies surrounding it. The illumination cast across Chaldor and Ichna's faces, bringing to light the wonder that shone in their eyes and had their mouths hanging open. They had seen plenty of fire displays during the Night of Fire in the market, but never anything as skillful as Fletch's magic.

While they stood, speechless, ponies around them were already beginning to set up tents and ready themselves for dinner. In the span of several minutes, six tents had already popped up. Chaldor blinked, then, his head whipping around to try to find the wagon that contained the tent supplies.

"Wait here, I'll set up for us," he told Ichna, who only nodded silently. Kibeth, at her side, had fallen asleep before the fire display, and was only now waking to the feeling of warmth on her hide. Of course, as she awoke, she began to cry for a feeding, and Ichna sighed and obliged her.

That's when the hoof-stomping started.

It was quiet at first because the ponies were stomping on sand; the two or three that began it also quietly chanted a 'hoo-uh, hoo-uh' noise along to the beat of their hooves. The chant arose from two more ponies, then three, as tents were finished being erected and ponies began to circle around the fire once more. Soon ten or fifteen ponies were all chanting, their hooves dulled by the sand but sending out vibrations nonetheless. Kibeth stopped suckling and looked down at her own hooves, surprised by the feeling she was experiencing. Ichna just watched along. She didn't have the strength to chant and had no clue what they were chanting for, anyway.

Chidira approached her, then, smiling, her little freckles clear on her face and making her cheeks seem plump. Her little hooves were stomping to the beat as she walked, but it was clear she wasn't putting the same effort into it as the adults. She wasn't chanting; she was just grinning as she came nearer Ichna, scaring Kibeth behind her mother's legs again.

"Dinner time!" she hissed, still beaming, as sat in the sand a short ways away from the flutterpony mare and her wings twitched, once, twice, in anticipation.

Suddenly the ring of ponies fell silent.

As the multi-hued bodies of pegasus and unicorn, fairy, flutter, and earthpony alike parted like a tiny sea, another pony stepped forth down the channel, clearly visible even in the flickering, sporadic firelight, in part because he stood a full foot above the rest of the ponies, and in part because the golden glow of flames were dim in comparison to his bright white hide. His gray mane was cropped short against his head and neck, his tail trimmed and looped through a leather thong. His flank was patterned with dusty cream splotches that were so pale they seemed a mirage, disappearing and reappearing with each of the fire's temperamental spurts.

Most curious of all, though, were the pony's arms.

Protruding from the sides of his broad, tall chest - much taller than a regular pony's, and oddly-shaped, a melding of a pony's torso and a man's pectorals - were a pair of muscular arms, which ended in two hands graced with only two fingers and a thumb, each. It was enough, though, for him to carry an enormous silver pot - Kibeth could have fit in it comfortably - which he grunted as he set down by the fire. A cheer broke out through the caravan, some of the loudest noise Ichna had heard them make since lodging with them, and from the ponies' mouths rose the hulking, misshapen pony's name.

"Thighmaster! Thighmaster! Thighmaster, huzzah!" the call reverberated between the wagons before dispersing on the night air. The odd stallion - Thighmaster - broke into a grin, his large white teeth gleaming from a perfect smile. He flexed his pectoral muscles and another 'huzzah' went through the crowd. Ichna caught herself staring, a mix of curious and sickened, before she let her eyes drop to her hooves.

This was when Chaldor stepped up alongside her, finally finished assembling the tent. His eyes were on Ichna and Kibeth first and foremost.

"Hey hun, what's going on?" he genially asked before he turned his head enough to examine what the ponies were chanting about. His eyes bulged, the whites shining prominently in the firelight.

"Woah," was all he uttered, then, his jaw dropping and unable to form syllables as his tongue nearly lolled lifelessly out from behind his teeth. He finally got his mouth under control enough to snap his teeth shut. Already the large white pony had picked up a large pair of worn wooden tongs. He lifted the huge metal cooking pot and set it carefully on the fire. He then skillfully used the tongs to take some nearby water pouches - some ponies had brought them out to him - and dump them into the large pot from above. All the while the tongs kept from catching on fire. Whether this was by magic or by some sort of fire-repellant sealant was anypony's guess.

"Thighmaster," Ichna said, a bit breathlessly, but matter-of-factly nonetheless.

After a moment - a long moment while he watched the strange muscles ripple across the pony's chest as he put ingredients into the giant pot - Chaldor managed to regain a bit more composure.

"Well... Fletch told me he was odd. Said he was from Thighmaster Isles. It sounded strange at the time, but... I suppose it's quite normal-sounding now that I've seen him. I mean, compared to him," Chaldor explained all of this in a low whisper, not wanting to offend anypony.

Soon the delicious smell of supper began to waft through the camp. Some ponies retired to their tents for some alone-time while Thighmaster worked his 'magic' on the giant silver pot, slaving through the heat of the fire even when beads of sweat began to pool and run down his beautiful white coat. It was clear he was concentrating hard. He hadn't said a word to any pony since he'd arrived in the circle, focused entirely on using the proper amounts of ingredients and spices.

He meticulously picked out various vegetables from a large wooden bin, cleaving them carefully with a sharp knife, sometimes while still holding them and others while they were placed on a hard, flat rock by the fire. Some of the vegetables were quartered, some chopped up finely. Once he was finished, he wiped his hands on his chest, and began to meter out small pinches of spices from tiny jars in another bin. His fingers deftly opened caps to the tiny jars; while his fingers were far too large and clumsy to remove spices through the mouth, he gently tapped some out into small spoons and tossed them quickly into the pot.

A huge stirring spoon entered the pot, then, as the fire calmed to bright embers. Finally Thighmaster could approach, and with a powerful fist he stirred the concoction. He looked like an artist in the dull glow of the embers, his brow creased with concentration as his large muscles strained to stir the ingredients. Soon the smell of dinner began to fill the small circle of wagons, invisible but turning heads, rousing ponies from short naps in their tents and practically dragging them to the fireside. Even Ichna felt herself being drawn toward it, her legs moving as if under their own power. Chaldor followed her, right behind Kibeth.

Thighmaster seemed oblivious to the gathered ponies. He pulled the stirring spoon out of the pot, blew on it to cool it down, and tasted the remnants; his eyes rolled up toward the sky before his eyelids drooped. He seemed to be dulling his sight so he could put all of the power of his senses into his taste. His ears flattened against his skull and he looked momentarily both disgusted and upset with himself. One of his front hooves stomped in the soft sand in agitation as he quickly reached for the box of spices again, angrily removing two jars and metering out a spoonful of each to be tossed into the concoction. A few stirs more, another taste, his giant nostrils flaring as he smelled along with his taste. This time he smacked his lips once, twice, and seemed satisfied. He dusted off his hands as if he'd completed a hard day's work, turned away from the fire, and trotted toward a nearby wagon, which he hoisted himself into and disappeared.

The surrounding ponies immediately began clamoring for their share of the night's dinner. Fletch was there, an ever-guiding presence, offering ponies bread bowns and ladeling food carefully into them.

The crowding ponies quickly became a line, which dwindled like a catepillar losing body segments, the ponies grabbing their food and departing quickly to small circles of gossip around their various tents, with friends and family, to enjoy the evening. By the time Ichna and Chaldor, originally at the back of the line, reached the front, there were already full ponies moving on to other tasks. Somewhere a pony was plucking away almost experimentally at a stringed instrument.

Fletch ladled a share of the stew for Ichna, the contents sloshing into the bread-bowl sloppily but, despite their late attendance, still thick and filled with nourishing vegetables.

"Does he do this every night?" Chaldor asked Fletch, over her shoulder.

"Oh yes. He comes out for breakfast, sometimes, as well, but dinner is always a sort of show. He takes it very seriously. We try not to bother him for anything else; he seems annoyed when he's asked to do anything but cook, and we'd hate to lose him."

Ichna and Chaldor both nodded solemnly. Chaldor had previously thought they'd be dining on tough lizard hides, stale bread and cactus; he'd never dreamed the caravan would have a personal and accomplished cook, despite how strange he seemed.

Bowls full, Chaldor and Ichna picked their way back to their tent to finish dinner. Kibeth cried for another feeding before they were through, her bright eyes focused intently on her mother. The child was growing larger, and as she fed she began to tug at the bandages around her neck. Ichna gasped, shifted, put a hoof to the filly's forehead to stop her. Noticing her mother's distress and not wanting to miss out on dinner, Kibeth quit fidgeting and returned her attention to what she was really interested.

After she'd drifted off to sleep, the couple stared up at the stars together, quietly. Neither one seemed intent on talking... they just enjoyed the quiet sounds of the night, the sand-tickers ticking away through the low noise of pony chatter and the occasional quiet, haunting tune from the stringed instrument-player. Shortly they drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The next few days brought little new to the couple's life. Kibeth seemed to grow bigger every day - or maybe it was Ichna's imagination - and seemed to demand more and more feedings. Eventually Ichna was provided with a bottle, which Chidira dutifully fed to the filly when needed, at the insistence of Gretchun, who seemed to have taken Ichna under her wing. The fairypony went out of her way to do her best to explain what she could to the flutterpony, knowing the new mother was about as knowledgeable about traveling in the desert as the fairypony was about the flutter's life thusfar, which was very little if at all.

Soon Ichna knew the names for several bits of wildlife, knew which side of the dune was the best to settle on, knew how to find water if none was visibly available, and most importantly how to keep her stamina up for the long days of traveling the gypsies endured.

Chaldor, meanwhile, had taken to following Fletch, who was not nearly as talkative. The unicorn was wise and Chaldor was very interested in learning what he could glean from the quiet, gruff pony, in as many clips and phrases as it took. Half the time he asked questions, he was told to go back to keeping an eye out for marauders, but sometimes he was given a rare glimpse into the unicorn's life. He gleaned that Fletch had been a traveler since he was born, and would definitely die one. His mother and father had, both, and the wagons he was leading were practically his birthright. He took everything seriously. But he was also very attentive to the caravan's needs. When somepony sprained an ankle or needed a break, they were allowed to retire to the wagons. No one caused a fuss under his leadership and everyone contributed. He was as effective a leader as Chaldor had ever seen.

After several days whispers began to circle through the camp that they were nearby the oasis they would be resting and working at for a short while. Chaldor was dreaming of the change in scenery, and Ichna of a proper bath for her and Kibeth. Fletch confirmed they were less than a day's trip out, having made a good pace up to this point, and they could expect to have a good amount of 'free time' once they reached the oasis if they could keep their speed up. Hearing this, Chaldor itched to spur the caravan into action, to head toward the oasis _now_... but then Thighmaster started dinner for the night, and any thoughts of doing anything but eating another delicious meal vanished from his mind.

* * *

True to Fletch's word, they reached the oasis the next day. First came the cries of "Oasis, ho!" from the front-runners, who seemed more excited than Chaldor had ever seen them. He squinted, peering into the distance, the blistering noon-day sun reflecting off the dunes and causing heat ripples to distort everything behind them. Maybe they'd seen a mirage? He certainly didn't see anything. It must have been the ponies' spectacular senses of smell, because several minutes of a much faster pace later, the first tiny splotches of green appeared on the horizon. It was then that the smell of fresh spring water reached Chaldor. His nostrils flared, taking in the delicous scent. As sufficient as pouched water was, it had a stale taste to it, and the smell of moisture on the wind pumped adrenaline through his tired limbs like nothing else.

Splotches of same-colored green turned to a lush variation of different ones, as various trees popped into detail. Most of them were palms - their giant, spiked fronts waving delicately in the slight wind that rolled sand softly down the dunes the ponies tread on - clearly heavily-laden with some sort of fruit as they bent low to the ground, looking like wizened, green-haired humans, bent at the back, tired of the day. Interspersed with the palms were a large manner of other plants, from scrubby bushes to squat, broad-leaved trees. It seemed the yellowy sea of sand turned to a lush, green carpet at the feet of the trees, as well... grass, the first large patch Chaldor had ever seen outside of a landscaped garden, he was sure of it. They weren't quite there, but it simply smelled of fresh vegetation.

The wildlife grew more dense, as well. Along with the occasional visible sand-ticker, there were now lizards in both dull browns and blacks as well as vividly green and blue ones. Beetles thrummed in lazy circles in the air, here and there, some of them scuttling across the sand on secret business. The chirps of birds - not the raucous caws of vultures as the group had heard several times before on the trip - seemed to add a 'choir of angels', heavenly quality to the landscape, as if it weren't enough of a dreamscape just to be lush with plantlife. A strange, cat-like creature prowled in the distance; Chaldor's eyes immediately focused on it, trained as his gaze now was to detect movement in any fashion on the sands, and Fletch - running to his fore - somehow sensed it.

"Sfinks khat," he offered in explanation.

As the group reached the oasis, they slowed down and began their practiced ringing procedure. This time it was a larger half-circle, the opening of which faced the greatest, most distinct part of the oasis: a giant, wide-stretching, gorgeous pool of brilliantly clear, silvery but blue as it reflected the empty sky above, spring water. Some ponies trotted slowly toward it, wanting to savor the moment - for each time they reached an oasis, it was one more travel half-finished - while others, mostly the younger ponies and foals, quickly splashed into the pool, whinnying and neighing and rearing in delight. Chaldor's heart leapt with joy just to see the ponies - his friends, now, even though their journey had only taken a week - so exuberant.

He quickly tracked down Ichna, who was also excited; more excited than he'd seen her since... well, since she'd gotten the news that she was pregnant. She was practically glowing. _What a beautiful mare I've married_, Chaldor thought to himself, not for the first time in their relationship but certainly the most recent. He was elated that she seemed so happy... the travel had been so tough, and not at all what he'd wanted for his family; to know that she could still enjoy some part of it, however small, was a blessing. He thanked Am'hatai, for as long as he was able before Kibeth was down, out of her wagon, and racing after Chidira toward the pools.

"C'mon, Kibeth, let's go play!" she squealed. Kibeth mimicked the squeal, and in her haste, tripped over her front hooves and went face-first into the sand. Ichna gasped. The filly sat up, her muzzle wrinkling as though she were about to cry, but then her gaze went to Chidira, already in the water, splashing, seeming to offer it to her, and she was back on her hooves and racing toward the spring again.

"It'll be so good to get a bath, finally," Ichna crooned as she trotted toward the springs with Chaldor in her wake.

"I just want a drink. I suppose I should go up the spring a ways if I don't want to taste dirty pony?" he chuckled.

The pair split as Ichna headed into the water with Gretchun, who was already living out Ichna's desires and washing her hair. The usual luster of her locks became even more brilliant as she pulled her head out of the waters and shook the moisture out of it, with a soft 'ahhh!'

Chaldor watched the mares another moment before picking his way through a bit of brush to a point further up the shoreline. A lizard dropped on his hindquarters from a nearby tree, spooking him forward a moment... it was long enough that he ran right into Fletch's hindquarters as the unicorn stallion was bent at the neck, taking his own deep drink from the pool. Fletch went in head-first with a loud splash; he immediately came back up, sputtering.

Chaldor's ears went back against his head in sympathy and sheepishness but, in his giddiness, he couldn't help but chortle, even as Fletch pulled himself to his hooves. The stallion looked positively enraged, his half-lidded gaze focused squarely on the flutter, 'till Chaldor's unrestrained laughter choked down into a squeak.

Then Fletch began to laugh. It wasn't enough to put Chaldor at ease, but his suddenly-tense shoulders slackened and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Sorry about that, chap, I didn't see you here."

"It's hard to find a place away from the yammer of the mares," Fletch offered as he climbed up onto the spring's back and turned back to start lapping up water again. Chaldor followed his lead and bent down over the spring water. It was so cool as it touched his lips, he shivered. It was even cooler on his tongue. He let the tip of his tongue touch the surface and hang there, reveling in the sweet feeling as it seemed his tastebuds were turning into goosepimples for a moment. Then he began to drink, taking deep gulps at first. It was almost too much; he choked a moment.

Fletch lifted his head, "Now, now, there's water here to last a lifetime, and that will be longer the slower you drink, if you're going to try to choke yourself on it."

Embarrassed and flushing briefly, Chaldor slowed his drinking to a lazy suckle, lapping up the liquid that tasted like nothing but sweetness and light and better than any other drink he'd had in his life. It was so hard to keep his drinking steady, but he managed.

When he was finally finished - he felt his stomach would burst if he took even another sip, and still he was eyeing the spring ruefully, thinking 'I'll be back' - he turned to find Fletch grazing nearby; the unicorn's steady gaze had been on him the entire time. He pulled his head up and swallowed.

"Just keeping an eye on you. As beautiful as this place is, it's just as deadly as the desert. Marauders could be here at any moment. It's never safe to go anywhere alone. Ever. Remember that."

Chaldor felt a lump in his throat - was it from sudden fear? - but he nodded slowly. His gaze slid sideways as he tried to think of a different topic.

"Is the grass any good?"

"Oh, it's all right," Fletch's shoulders rolled in a shrug, "but what you really ought to keep an eye out for are the needle-less cactus. They're about knee height, and a pale rose color. No needles, just fleshy paddles, so they're easy to bite into. They're a delicacy. If you find any, feel free to eat one, but you really ought to bring them to Thighmaster. He can do wonders with them.

Unfortunately they're rather rare... you'll be lucky if you find one during a single rotation around the deserts. They used to be plentiful at all of the oasis sites, but one year it seemed as though they all just... dried up to nothingness. It was quite strange. Disappointing, really."

Chaldor nodded; filed this away into his memory of all things related to the desert. Absently he gazed around, but of course there were none of this plant here; plenty of low-hanging palms, thorn-laden bushes and harmless-looking ones alike, little patches of tiny, fuzzy wildflowers, moss growing on various rocks, and barely a speck of sand in sight to peek through the thick carpet of luscious grass. He couldn't help himself; he leaned down and munched lightly on it. It was somewhat tasteless; he swallowed the mouthful he'd taken but figured he'd save the room in his stomach for whatever meal Thighmaster might have for them later. Fletch was starting to head back to the caravan's wagon site, and Chaldor followed.

Ichna was just shaking off from her dip in the springs, her long hair whipping around her head. She stayed a good distance from the other ponies but still managed to spray some of them; she apologized, with a blush on her cheeks.

"Maybe you need a haircut?" Chaldor joked as he approached her from behind. She nearly topled over the side of the embankment in surprise before turning to face him. Her eyes sparkled cheerfully.

"That's a grand idea. I wonder if anypony here knows how to cut manes..."

"We get Thighmaster to do that," an earthpony commented from nearby, where he was washing the fringe of his hooves which had become embedded with sand during the travels.

"Of course," Chaldor remarked, "it's probably easier for a pony with hands."

It felt odd to say, but the hands had so many uses; they would just have to get used to the strangeness of it. Ichna trotted off to find the giant, six-legged, Clydesdale-like pony with an intent gleam in her eye.

Meanwhile Chaldor turned his attention to Kibeth, who was still splashing with Chidira in the shallows of the spring. She whinnied playfully, and kicked a cupful of water in Chidira's face. The flutterpony's wings were damp, hanging at her sides limply, clearly useless. The two looked as though they were having quite the time together. It was Kibeth's first time swimming and Chidira had spent a short time trying to teach her before it became apparent the foal was simply too young to teach, so she'd shepherded the filly back to the shoreline.

Chaldor grinned as he watched, until he noticed something. Kibeth's head-bandage had come off. Her oddly-shaped, protruding 'scab' was clearly visible. For a moment, panic washed over the father as he thought the secret was out, but he quickly grabbed the reins of his emotions and whistled to the playing pony children.

"Oy, Kibeth, come back to shore, we need to put something on that scab of yours..."

The filly's head turned quizzically; she understood her name, but the rest of the speech was garbled. Chidira's face fell into a frown.

"Does she have to?" the fairypony whined, expertly.

"Most definitely," Chaldor's response was a little harsher than he intended it and seemed to frighten the fairy for a moment, but she obeyed, herding Kibeth to the shore where the flutter leapt up, coming to stand next to her father, and immediately shook her fur and mane out, spraying drops of water every which-way. Chaldor sputtered and stepped away for a moment, irritated, before pushing Kibeth toward one of the nearby wagons.

Chaldor had become a bit more knowledgeable about what existed in each wagon, and so he leapt to the opening of the wagon with the yellow patches on its canvas top. It was only his third or fourth time being in a wagon, and he still wasn't used to how dark and dank they seemed inside. He heard the wood creaking under his hooves as he stepped down the hallway of sorts that parted the numerous, secured cubbies, drawers, bins and boxes piled on either side. Everything had been carefully stacked and put into place so as not to slide during the journey, but still some of the drawer mouths hung open as though the drawers were gasping for air. Chaldor nudged them closed with his nose.

He tried to remember which drawer the first-aid kit was in but shortly he spotted a large drawer with a big, orange heart shape painted on it. This was the universal symbol for first-aid, so he made his way to it and opened the drawer with the convenient mouth-hold. Inside were all manner of bandages, and some small jars of some very pungent concoctions; pungent enough to sting his nose and eyes and nearly cause his back legs to give out if only to raise his head from the stench. Quickly he grabbed a roll of gauze and kicked the drawer shut with a hoof; it let out one more puff of sharp scent and Chaldor quickly backed away, turned tail, and leapt from the wagon's opening.

Kibeth was still standing near the front wagon's wheel, looking expectantly up at her father. She looked confused but was still obedient, even though her wide, curious eyes paired with drooping ears seemed to indicate she was frightened of punishment. He sighed and then gave her a reassuring smile, trying to dispel the filly's worry; she immediately smiled back at him, perking up at once. With that out of the way, Chaldor pulled a length of gauze from the roll he'd recovered and wrapped it deftly around Kibeth's forehead. It was really nothing like basket-weaving, but it used the same hoof-jaw-eye coordination he'd used before, and in a matter of moments the gauze was neatly tied off and the scab a large bump, hidden beneath.

It was then that Ichna found him, and showed off her newly-cut hair as she peeked around the side of the wagon they were standing by. There was barely any of her mane left to speak of; it was cropped almost as closely as Thighmaster's had been, though somehow the pony had seemed to pay careful attention to the way he cut it, shaping it into waves and fluffing it so she retained at least some of the femininity, even if her hair was not as lengthy and flowing as it had been. Her tail had been cut to half-length and pulled up in a bright blue ribbon. Both her mane and tail had been thoroughly brushed and seemingly slicked with some sort of wax; they shined in the bright sun overhead as if they were fired porcelain or glass. Ichna turned her head prettily and batted her eyelashes. Chaldor swallowed, hard.

"I-I was just... bandaging Kibeth up," he finally said. Ichna's pretty face turned cloudy.

"Oh no! Did she lose her bandage in the water? I never noticed...!-"

"It's all right... nobody saw. Or nobody questioned it. It's still a scab. But who knows how long..."

"We have to keep a better eye on her," Ichna admonished. Chaldor's brow furrowed and he nodded. Ichna began fawning over the filly, pulling her close and nuzzling Kibeth's hair into place, running her velvety muzzle along the filly's neck and sides and holding her to her chest with one leg.

"Are you ready for something to eat?" she finally asked, sniffling a few sudden tears away but smiling despite them. Kibeth seemed to understand that word, "eat"; she nodded enthusiastically. Ichna led her away somewhere private to nurse. Chaldor watched them depart and tried not to let it bother him.


	8. Chapter 8 - The Hunt

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Eight - The Hunt_

The day was still only halfway through when Fletch tracked Chaldor down; he found the stallion picking at a plant with sturdy, long leaves, thin but flexible. Chaldor was gathering them in a pile, looking as though he knew what he was doing. Fletch watched him a moment, curiously, before clearing his throat.

"Oh, heh, hi Fletch," Chaldor said, spitting out the leaf he'd just pulled from the plant, one of the last remaining on its near-bare stems, "I was just... well, I used to be a basket-weaver, and I saw this plant, and I thought the leaves looked good..."

"We're going to hunt a Sfinks khat," Fletch said flatly, "you're coming along, so clean up that business. Drop it off at the wagons if you have to, and meet us at the eastern edge of the spring. There's a large rock there; we'll be waiting." The unicorn disappeared into the brush. Chaldor seemed a bit bewildered, but he didn't want to upset the leader of the caravan, so he obliged.

The spring was deceiving in its breadth and Chaldor made it to the meeting spot quickly, flying overhead of the trees and touching down in a small clearing a short distance from the large rock, which was easily spotted from above. He landed quietly enough, but his hooves crunch-crunched loudly across the now-broken grass blades as he approached the meeting spot. It was quiet and he began to wonder if Fletch had tricked him, until - ears perked - he strained and finally heard quiet whispering.

He burst through a bit of thick brush to find himself muzzle-to-muzzle with one of the caravaners, a slight orange pegasus patterned with brown paint. All eyes were turned on him, and he held his breath.

"Chaldor, I'm sure you've met Veld'hrek at some point," Fletch, eyeing the new arrival warily, motioned to the orange pegasus. He then indicated a couple other ponies gathered there: another pegasus, this one a bit broader in build and all in dusky browns save for a white splotch on his nose, "Muddy"; and an intense-looking fairypony, shorter than the rest but clearly an able warrior, a red-orange color and lightly dappled with pale yellow spots, "Sunspot."

"Um, so... what exactly is a Sfinks khat?" Chaldor flushed with heat at the eyes still gazing at him; he didn't want to sound stupid, but he'd rather sound stupid than look stupid hunting for something he knew so little about.

"They're a predator at these oases," Veld'hrek started in a hushed tone that seemed to buzz in Chaldor's ears, "about chest-high on all fours, but they've got such long legs, necks, and especially ears that they almost sit taller than they stand."

"They resemble a common house-cat, otherwise, though with slightly larger paws. The males are larger than the females, but also much more rare. The females are... harder to capture. They come in a wide array of colors, so I can't give you one to look for, but if you see a flash of a color other than green or sandy yellow through the trees, it's probably one of them."

"The nobles tend to buy them as pets. Occasionally we sell them as animals to train for entertainment."

"Does anyone buy them for... their pelts?" Chaldor paused, his memory flashing with gruesome scenes of skinning cats and having to use their meat.

"No, no, they're such skinny creatures, you'd get no more'n a waterskin off 'em, and their fur sheds too much. Not much money in selling the skins, anyway; ponies pay more for the live specimens," a gleam entered Veld'hrek's eyes. Chaldor could tell he was already savoring the large piles of gold pieces bound to come his way.

Once the description was done, the ponies quietly began to shuffle around the tiny clearing, picking up various supplies and generally ignoring Chaldor. The flutterpony dug a fore-hoof into the dirt, shifting uncomfortably. Finally he ventured another question.

"How do we catch them?"

Mirth glimmered in a couple of the ponies' eyes; Veld'hrek just looked annoyed. He whirled, pointing his muzzle at the brush nearby.

"Uh...?" Chaldor responded, not seeing what the pony was pointing at.

Heaving a sigh, Veld'hrek trotted closer and nosed some of the brush out of the way; behind it was a wooden crate, about pony-size; it had been well-concealed, completely indistinguishable from the brush around it.

"So... we herd it in there, I guess?" Chaldor ventured. Veld'hrek nodded curtly.

"Then we drop the door shut behind it, bring it back to the caravan, get a new cage, and come back."

Chaldor's eyes widened, "We're catching more than one?!" He kept his voice to a low hiss.

"Yes, of course. About five should do us."

"Five?!"

"Hush now. It will go quickly. It's difficult work but you'll see; the five of us can do this, easily. Muddy's caught two or three by himself before, back when we didn't have Sunspot, Fletch was out with a broken ankle, and I was sick with food poisoning. If he can do it alone, well certainly the four of us can deal with you as a handicap."

"Now, now," Fletch harrumphed, his chest puffing up as he stepped between the two, "Chaldor will be a help to us like anypony else might. He'll get the hang of it. After all, the first time I took you Sfinks khat hunting, Veld..."

Immediately the pegasus pinked, "Hey, hey, there's no need for that..."

Fletch turned to Chaldor, "Poor pony ran right into the trap and we closed it right down on him. Sfinks khat got away. We left him there for an hour or so; I think we were just laughing too hard to let him out."

Veld'hrek moped for a moment before turning a gaze on Chaldor, a mix of apologetic and sheepish, "I'm sure you'll do fine, we just have to find a khat or two."

* * *

After a bit more discussion about the game plan, Chaldor took off in flight. The ponies agreed Chaldor would be best as an aerial lookout for the khats while Fletch, Veld, Muddy and Sunspot prowled through the brush with rope and long sticks of bamboo to help herd and subdue them, since they at least had a better idea of where the cage lay.

Chaldor did a quick circle of the spring and saw nothing; there was far too much tree coverage anywhere but directly over the spring to see anything but green leaves and brown branches, though occasionally he glimpsed a flash of one of his companions' hides through the canopy.

After another circle he noticed movement on the nearby sands and flew closer to investigate; sure enough, a raspberry-hued Sfinks khat - he assumed it was a female by its lankier body structure and prowling stance as it walked - leaving paw prints in the dunes as it tracked its way toward the oasis. Occasionally it looked back over its shoulder, its long, tufted tail twitching as it surveyed the horizon for predators, before turning back toward the springs and heading forward again. Chaldor had to keep himself breathing as his heart rate rocketed, knowing this was "it".

He swooped in low by the big boulder the ponies had met at earlier. It took him a moment to remember the directions he'd been given, but finally he let out a low whistle as he soared in a slow circle over the nearby treetops; it meant a Sfinks khat was headed toward their position. Another, similar low whistle returned... then two and three and finally a fourth. They had all heard him. He circled again for another command, a set of double-clicks that told them the khat was to the southeast. Almost immediately he saw foliage rustling below him; the trees swayed almost silently, as if blown by an invisible and unfelt wind.

Chaldor saw the khat enter the outer edge of the greenery, and the ponies came upon it almost immediately. They had already circled around it, and now suddenly birds flew up from the canopy, all squawking and cawing angrily at their perches being disturbed as the hunters moved to intercept their prey. Chaldor had to dodge a couple of the birds, which were so startled and departing so quickly they nearly flew right into him; it caused him to miss the majority of the action, and before he knew it, the trees below him had stopped swaying, and a trilling whistle was coming from below. Chaldor knew this meant he could come down to examine the catch. His eyes cast about the dunes for another khat before doing so. He hadn't actually captured the khat, but it was thrilling; his heart was still racing.

As he swept down low - smacking into a few branches below in his haste, and leaving a few red welts on his sides as a reminder - he brought his legs out to catch him in a nearly immediate run. He sucked in a deep breath and smelled the cool spring, the abundant vegetation, and felt more alive than he'd felt in... years. He burst through the low-lying bushes and shrubbery and found Sunspot gloating over his catch.

Inside the cage, the raspberry-hued female khat prowled angrily. She was emitting a low growl, and each time a pony made to come near her, she hissed, her bright yellow eyes glaring angrily out from between the wooden planks keeping her in. Chaldor might have felt pity for the khat if he didn't understand the necessity of the ponies capturing and selling the creatures. Knowing they didn't have to kill them was enough for him.

"Er, how do we get her back to the caravan?" he queried. There was no answer; instead Fletch emerged from the brush with a loop of rope, a harness he threw over Chaldor's neck. Veld'hrek, Muddy, and Sunspot each received one in turn, and Sunspot, eager to get his prize back to the wagons, took off into the air; his rope supported one corner of the crate, which lifted slightly off the oasis floor. Veld took off next, with Muddy behind him. Chaldor was the last to rise into the sky - carefully avoiding the canopy this time - and suddenly he felt the weight of the crate supported only on his neck, shoulders, and back. It was a heavy weight, but he easily found comfort in the fact that they had not far to go, and he was sharing the weight with other ponies.

The flight to the camp was indeed short, and as the crate touched down, ponies gathered around it below them, letting out a cheer. Chaldor desperately wanted to alight on the ground and take a moment's break, but he noticed Veld had already turned back to the hunting ground; Muddy and Sunspot followed him. He sighed, glancing down to the camp. Ichna was down there, waving, Kibeth close at her side. He waved down at her with one hoof before zipping off after the others, back to the hunting territory.

Their hunt went like this for several hours, until the sun started to set. Most of the time was spent watching, waiting for another khat to approach the spring and be spotted. Unfortunately two khats managed to get away; one was on guard enough to be startled by the sudden rustling of ponies coming toward it and it immediately flipped around and scrambled back out into the desert. The other put up a bit more of a fight when it ran into Muddy, scratching a large gash in his flank and sending him back to the camp for aid. With the light dwindling and no more khats on the horizon, Fletch called the hunting group back to camp.

Chaldor could smell the aroma of Thighmaster's cooking as he flew in, low, over the wagon half-circle. The Sfinks khat cages sat to the side of the gathering; two khats, a blue and a gold, were sleeping, but the raspberry khat from their first encounter paced and prowled in a circle in its enclosure, eyeing the ponies maliciously. Chaldor did not relish the thought of having to travel with the beast for several more days; he wondered who would have to feed it.

Ichna popped her head out of a wagon, and, seeing Chaldor, leapt down to the grass floor, immediately turning around to help Kibeth down off the wagon behind her. The filly was almost too much for Ichna to handle anymore; as soon as she had all four hooves on the ground, her little wings began to buzz and she raced off to find Chidira. Kibeth couldn't fly yet, but it was clear she'd be attempting to soon.

Ichna approached Chaldor, "How did your hunt go? I saw you bring back some khats..."

"Well," Chaldor sighed, "we were hoping for more. But there's always tomorrow. Is Muddy all right?"

"Yes, of course, it wasn't a very deep wound, thank Am'hatai. He's already back on his hooves. I think that's due in part to hearing Thighmaster begin dinner preparations," she chuckled.

"So what did you do today?" Chaldor asked, trying not to be distracted by the sweet aromas that were already wafting lazily through the air, "Sit around and relax?"

"Oh, no, not at all. Some of the ladies showed me how to pick dates from the trees. I got this as a souvenir for my training," Ichna turned to show off a small patch of bright red spots that showed through the fur on her left side. "Apparently some birds think the dates belong to them; I encountered a rather ornery one!"

"Oh, sweety!" Chaldor nuzzled the mare, brushing his velvety muzzle along the side of her face softly.

"I'm fine," Ichna responded, grateful for the nuzzles despite as she leaned into them, "and we managed to gather at least three barrels of dates. The ones we didn't eat or set aside for Thighmaster, anyway. I think we may have plucked all of the trees in this area clean!"

The couple soon settled in for dinner. Thighmaster had included the freshly-picked dates in their dinner for the night, and alongside each stew-filled bread-bowl was a couple of plump f'hassberries, which a few of the ponies had gone to the trouble of gathering while others were busy with date-picking or Sfinks-khat-hunting.

The f'hassberries resembled small pears in shape, but in color they came nowhere close, the majority of them being a near-blinding bright blue, with some of them bordering on purple. They had squiggly lines and dots across their skins like a melon, but like a pear they needed no peeling, and were meant for simply biting into. The center contained six large, circular seeds, which were easy to swallow if a pony wasn't careful. They would have to be, for a bucket was set aside for the seeds; even these would catch a good price on the market when they reached the next town, so each pony dutifully spit their seeds into the bucket as they came across them. It was a small price to pay for the generous flesh of the fruit, succulent and juicy despite the desert's tendency to leave fruit innards dry, and with a fresh, perfectly sweet citrus-y taste.

Kibeth soon settled down near her parents and was interested enough to try a f'hassberry of her own, but the one picked out for her was unripe. As she bit into it, her face puckered; she gave her parents an angry look as she spat out the fruit she'd bitten, and let her tongue loll comically out the side of her mouth lest she experience the sour taste again.

With full bellies, Chaldor and Ichna began to ready themselves for bed. Kibeth looked as though she were still awake, and she and Chidira had begun a game of leapfrog by the spring. When Kibeth's parents called her over, Chidira followed like a lost puppy; reaching Chaldor and Ichna, she gave them her biggest, saddest eyes.

"Can't we play a little longer? My mum says we can," she tried, also attempting to keep the whine out of her voice. The parents exchanged a glance between each other before Ichna sighed.

"I suppose you can play for a little while longer. When I call Kibeth again, though, it's bed time."

"Yes, of course," Chidira's wings fluttered excitedly. Immediately she gave Kibeth a little shove with her shoulder, "You're it!," and then ran off giggling. Kibeth's tail wagged happily, and she pranced after the older filly excitedly.

The two circled each other; Chidira leapt into a bush and Kibeth chased after her, but got caught in the branches. She bleated in momentary fright, and immediately Chidira raced back to untangle her.

"You scared me for a minute, yeesh!" she whispered stridently.

"It!" Kibeth said matter-of-factly, tagging Chidira with a hoof and then prancing back through the brush cheekily, disappearing into the darkness.

"H-hey, that's not fair! Wait for me!" Chidira cried, pushing through the same brush and finding herself in a small clearing, with Kibeth nowhere to be seen. It was dark, and suddenly the bushes seemed like creatures reaching their giant claws out to grasp at Chidira.

"Kibeth? I'm scared. Can we go back to the camp now? I want to be by the fire again..." Chidira's voice wavered as she crouched down low. Suddenly there was a burbling noise nearby, rustling leaves. Chidira's gaze snapped in the direction of the noises but all she saw was darkness. It was too dark to even see movement.

"That better be you, Kibeth," Chidira gulped down her fright. It was freezing her legs to the ground; they felt like solid stones and she could hear her heart thudding in her chest. When did it start pumping that quickly? She swallowed again, working against her dry mouth.

"IT!" Kibeth suddenly shrieked, popping out from the bushes. Chidira could only tell it was her because of the sudden, pale light that illuminated the nearby brush. It cast across the ground in a small radius around Kibeth as though she held the moon above her, its brightest point sitting upon her brow like a tiny, fallen star. It was Kibeth's horn. The scab and bandages carefully concealing it had fallen off when she'd gotten stuck in the shrubs. Chidira simply stared at her in wonder. Kibeth's tail wagged playfully as she waited for the older pony to chase after her. When no chase came, Kibeth stepped closer. "It...?"

"What happened to your head?" Chidira asked, as though the filly could answer her. Kibeth didn't seem fazed, she just peered at Chidira with a questioning look.

"We should get back to camp!" Chidira cried, shoving herself to her hooves and turning to push through the brush. She could hear Kibeth following her. The two made their way through the dark shrubs and shadowed trees until they saw the friendly glow of the fire and aimed themselves toward it.

It was just then that they heard Ichna's voice, "Kibeth? Kibeth, it's time for bed!"

"Phew, we got back in time," Chidira commented absently as she wove her way into the camp and across the clearing in the middle of the wagons, past the fire and toward Kibeth's parents. She could hear the flutter filly close on her heels.

"Ichna, something happened to Kibeth," the fairypony immediately revealed to her friend's mother, "her bandage fell off and now she glows."

"What...?" Ichna asked, her voice hollow as the fairy approached. Her eyes shot open in surprise when her gaze landed on Kibeth, however. The filly smiled up at her mother softly, seeming completely unconcerned with the two-inch-long, tiny, glowing horn protruding from her forehead.

"Oh, no," Chaldor's head popped out of their tent as he pulled himself to his hooves. His gaze was suddenly filled with horror. Chidira felt a shiver go up her spine at the look.

"She's all right, she's just glowing..." Chidira said, slowly, trying to absolve herself of any guilt she might have shared in whatever it was the parents were afraid of.

Fletch overheard their conversation. "She's what?" he asked, not sounding too concerned, knowing children made up some pretty odd stories, as he came out from around the nearby wagon he'd been keeping watch beside. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Kibeth.

"By Am'hatai, she has a horn..." he finally let dribble out of his mouth. It was the most awestruck Chaldor had ever seen him, and the flutterpony stallion immediately took this as a bad sign. Maybe the last few weeks had grown in him an unquenchable pessimism, but a dark feeling loomed over him; he felt no good could possibly come from this revelation. His mind drifted to Thighmaster, then; the camp took outsiders in, clearly. How was she any different? He tried to swallow the lump in his throat that felt like a sharp, cold ice cube.

Other ponies were beginning to peek out of their tents, some overhearing the conversation and others reacting to the strange light that seemed to be shining into their tents, one that didn't have the cheery, warm, sporadic glow of flickering flames but rather the cold, bright light of clean energy, like the light of a bolt of lightning from the sky, but constant and slightly more dim, possibly due to the filly's age.

"How long has...?" Fletch began.

"Since she was born," Ichna's response had a cold tone to it. She had risen and moved to stand near her filly, who was now looking a little upset, possibly because so many eyes were on her. She hid behind her mother's legs and found the caravan ponies staring at her from that direction, too. Everywhere the filly looked, saucer-wide eyes were staring at her, making her uncomfortable. She shoved herself into the middle of Ichna's stance, the flutter mare's legs looking like prison bars caging the filly in, if protectively.

"It's why we fled. Some ponies were... were after her. Garf said we could travel with you, that we could find a new life..." Ichna's words began to stop in her throat and choke her. The corners of her eyes stung as though they'd been stabbed with daggers as she tried desperately to hold back sudden tears.

Chaldor was on his hooves, then, as well, moving protectively to Ichna's side. Chidira backed away from the two as Fletcher stepped forward. The look of awe on the unicorn's face had subsided into an almost frighteningly blank one, as though he were pondering things so deeply in his mind that no sign of them registered on his face.

"T' family ken stay with us 'til we get t' th' next city, at least, right, Fletch?" Gretchun suddenly pipped up, her single wing lifting and drooping at her side as if floating along in the questioning tone of her voice.

"It's nothin' but bad luck!" a cry came from behind them, across the fire. It died down before Chaldor, his gaze whipping around to find the source, could see the pony who'd uttered it. This drew mutters from the ponies gathered; what had seemingly been silence moments before turned to quiet muttering, and soon to scattered debate. All the while Fletch stood looking down at the filly, and Ichna stared him down defiantly. Chaldor could feel her shivering next to him; he stood his ground equally.

Finally Fletch heaved a sigh.

"Of course you'll stay with us until the next city. But... you cannot travel with us forever. This isn't something we want... we don't... your filly," the unicorn had never been so at-a-loss before, Chaldor could tell he was flustered despite the ample time he'd given himself to consider, "it presents a problem for us. As it is, Thighmaster has to stay in the wagons when we move into town. There are others of his kind, but ponies are not used to seeing them. If you want a new life for your child, this isn't it."

Chaldor and Ichna were silent. They didn't need to exchange words; this wasn't something they could discuss. They simply had to accept Fletch's decision. At least Chaldor - his shoulder up against his wife's for comfort and support - could feel his wife lose some of her tension. It was only then that he noticed his heart was racing and a cold sweat had surfaced on his skin, soaking his coat. He parted from his wife for a moment to shake it off.

"Thank you," he finally said to Fletch, noticing his wife wouldn't be responding to the unicorn at all. Ichna herded Kibeth back to the tent; the youngster looked a mix of perplexed, hungry, tired, and scared, none of which he wanted to see on his young daughter's face. He noticed Chidira, who had backed across the clearing toward Gretchun, talking with her mother in hushed tones. The fairy filly looked upset, and Gretchun was clearly comforting her. Every now and then Gretchun passed him and their tent a sympathetic glance, pitiful, before returning to trying to reassure Chidira. Chaldor pursed his lips and tried to ignore it.

Chaldor was just about to head back to his tent when he heard something. His head turned and he noticed Fletch had heard the same thing, through the popping and crackling of the fire and the click-click of the sand-tickers and even the soft burbling of the stream, there was something which didn't sound right. Though Chaldor had no idea, Fletch knew all too well; he raced back through the part between the wagons and disappeared for a moment before his cry rose up over the canvas tops, strident, filled with all of the power he could muster.

"Marauders!"


	9. Chapter 9 - Marauders

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Nine - Marauders_

"Quick, pick up the tents! You, gather the spears. You three, I want you out by the wagons. Thighmaster! Thighmaster! Where's Thighmaster? Someone wake him! You, you, I want you to rope the Sfinks khats. Leash them to the wagon wheels. Fliers, pick up what you can... fire, logs, rocks, anything heavy or painful... protect the wagons! Grandmares, fillies, colts, everyone of you to the center, behind the fire. Yes, that's right. If I give the word, run into the forest, protect yourselves, hide..." Fletch had shouted himself breathless giving orders. Ponies everywhere scrambled to their places, leaving Chaldor and Ichna a moment of panic before tearing down their tent.

Chaldor shuffled his wife and filly over to the ring of frightened foals and grandparents.

"No, I'm helping you!" Ichna called after him as she made to rush after him, but one of the grandmares, a plump earthpony with a wrinkled but wise countenance, grabbed her tail before she could gallop away.

"Fool, stay here, you'll be no help to them," she hissed, "we've done this before, just stay out of the way."

Ichna's panicked eyes rolled wildly; she tried to focus on the pony talking to her, to regain her composure. She champed, her hooves digging into the grass at their feet, tail swishing madly. But she didn't run; more than she wanted to help her husband, she wanted them to be able to fight off the marauders, and if she was going to be a hindrance to that...

Chaldor followed the line of ponies that were headed to the cart with the red patches on its roof. They were pulling out all manner of things: long spears tipped with sharpened stones, buckets of tar they were dropping near the fire to heat, even odd contraptions like what looked like mats made up of lines of spikes, meant for dropping from above like the other objects. There were even slingshots, ones for a single pony and ones to anchor to the ground. All manner of weapons, some Chaldor didn't even recognize.

Some of the flying ponies were running to the fire. He gasped as he saw them grasping up logs - still on fire - and flying off with them between their legs. Others were brushing burning coals into metal buckets and carrying those off. Buckets of tar sitting on warming stones were already beginning to thin; soon they would be bubbling and able to be carried off as weapons, too.

Chaldor grabbed a spear and hurried through the openings of the wagons. He was hit with darkness when he emerged on the other side. He never realized how well the wagons managed to keep light from seeping through, but he had to blink a few times to even see the moon and stars in the sky, let alone the dunes in the distance. There was still the drumming of hooves like thunder echoing from all directions; who knew from which one they'd come. Fletch seemed to. His nostrils were flaring, his wide eyes sweeping the field of sand in rises and dips before him as his mind tried to work out a battle-plan.

"They'll be coming from the far east," he called, low, "Fliers, intercept them. Be ready for a few winged marauders; I can hear their feathers on the wind, but they are few. The majority are on hoof; at least thirty," he paused a moment, "it's not great odds, but I'm sure we can beat them if we try."

The whirlwind in the camp slowly came to a halt as ponies took up their various posts and watched in all directions. It became almost maddeningly silent, with the occasional sand ticker being the only noise to interrupt the steadily-growing whump-whump-whump of approaching, thundering hooves. He saw the dust plumes signaling the approach of the earth-bound ponies, and at the same time, a blob of color floating nearer in the sky separated into distinct ponies: two pegasi and two dragons.

"Dragons," Fletch whispered, as if echoing Chaldor's thoughts. He spat the word out but there was clear fear in his voice... and the dragons gave him good reason to be frightened, their maws opening and snapping shut between blowing out small bursts of flame as they approached. They were particularly menacing...

... and suddenly, one of them was floundering, falling out of the air and headed to the ground. Chaldor hadn't seen the dark-colored fairypony - a member of the caravan - as close in color as he was to his backdrop of the night sky, and it took only seconds for him to dive-bomb the dragon with one of the buckets of bubbling tar. The dragon screeched as it hurtled toward the ground, then buried itself in a sand dune and ceased moving.

This seemed to anger the other dragon, who let out a similar screech and made for the ring of wagons. Veld'hrek the pegasus met it there, but their clash in the sky was drowned out by the sudden whoop of the marauders on hoof. As they surfaced over the last dune in their way, Chaldor could see them clearly; Fletch's guess hadn't been far off, he surmised, as his eyes quickly scanned over at least 25 ponies.

Unused to battle, Chaldor assumed he needed to size up his opponents and choose one that he could beat. In fact, before he could even begin examining the approaching ponies, they were on him... and unlike in stories of battle, they didn't fight fair. A unicorn and two earthponies approached him, the unicorn immediately thrusting forward with his horn. Chaldor side-stepped left and found himself nearly running into the earthpony there... thankfully, he had held his spear forward, and the earthpony was forced to side-step, as well.

This left the third earthpony, who simply ran into Chaldor. The two fell into the sand, and legs flailed for a moment as they tried to right themselves. Chaldor struck the earthpony in the head with a back hoof; the other crumpled into a pile on the sand, clearly unconscious. Chaldor had no time to celebrate; already the other earthpony had turned to come back at him, and now he was without his spear. Instead, he leapt into the air, his wings taking him easily over the earthpony's head... but the marauder leapt up and attempted to bite Chaldor.

Attempted and succeeded, as the flutterpony felt himself pulled down by a hock. He kicked and flailed and the earthpony backed off; once again Chaldor was off into the sky, and now he looked, panicked, down upon the caravan. It was chaos. Many of the marauders had been repelled, but half of them remained standing and some had broken through the makeshift wagon-wall. Chaldor could see them, fighting hoof-to-hoof with one or another of the heartier females that had stayed to tend the fire. A female unicorn from the caravan looked overpowered; Chaldor dove quickly from the sky and rammed into one of her two assailants - an earthpony - with his hooves held out straight in front of him. The earthpony shouted in pain and recoiled, stumbling backward several steps as Chaldor landed to challenge him.

And then suddenly the marauder was swept away by a giant, white-speckled-with-cream freight train, a chugging mass of muscle and hoof and tooth and blessedly grasping hands: Thighmaster had been part of the fray all along, and - being much larger than any of their attackers - he was doing well for himself, rounding up the marauders that had made it past the barricade and tossing them back out into the desert beyond. Chaldor admired the giant, centaur-pony's strength as he practically hurled the bodies through the air; a soft 'whuff' noise for the landing of each could be heard, even through the din of the battle.

There was no time to admire the pony's strength or helpfulness; more marauders were already on them, and now that he was inside the wagon circle, Chaldor could see Ichna and Kibeth, both cowering close to the forest in the distance. He desperately wanted to be with them, but there were marauders in the way. Glancing to his side, Chaldor noticed a single bucket of bubbling tar, the last remaining with no pony to take it. Sucking up some courage, he ran toward it, grabbed it up in his mouth, and began to fly again.

The bucket was foul-smelling and nearly caused him to topple out of the sky from its overwhelming, noxious stench. An involuntary gag threatened to push the bucket's handle out of his mouth, but his teeth clamped down around the wooden handle so hard that it cracked and he felt splinters opening into his mouth. He couldn't let the bucket go.

Rather than dump the entirety on one foe, Chaldor forced his mind to focus... and was rewarded with a solution. Flying low to the ground, he targeted some marauders who had, by chance, happened to line up near-ish one another in such a way that, with precision, Chaldor was able to slowly spill a line of the tar across the sands, touching an earthpony here and a pegasus and unicorn there. Shrieks of pain issued up into the sky behind him as he quickly moved on, and finally dumped the rest of the bucket on the last in the line, an unfortunate unicorn whose mane must have been treated with something, as it immediately set ablaze and sent him screaming off into the night, likely to find water.

"This one has a horn!" a cry suddenly went up.

Chaldor had bothered to take a moment to pat himself on the back, and nearly didn't notice the words... but quickly, an icy terror washed across him and his gaze snapped over to where he'd last seen Ichna's worried face, watching him from afar. This time, she was being held by a gruff-looking unicorn - he could have been Fletch's twin brother had he not been an entirely different color and a good foot taller - as was Kibeth, who had begun to squeal at the top of her lungs "DADDY, DADDY, DADDY!" With each shout, her horn became slightly brighter, and then dimmed before the next. This seemed to be causing the unicorn marauder - who was likely the leader - some great amusement.

The leader finally got Kibeth under control and opened his mouth to issue... something. But he found the wind knocked out of him by Chaldor, who, head lowered, had dove at the unicorn with all his might and knocked the stallion over. Chaldor bit and kicked and fumed, flying into a fit of rage that burned brighter than even the fire behind him... the one Ichna and Kibeth ran toward for cover.

"Go, GO!" Chaldor shouted as he finally leapt off the leader and sprinted toward his wife and child. He grabbed Kibeth up by her neck in his mouth and tried to ascend into the sky. The filly had become to heavy, but Ichna looked back in time to see her husband flounder and immediately came to his side, taking Kibeth's backside onto her front legs and forcing herself into the air. Between them, they were able to gain flight, and they rose up and over the tops of the wagon circle, flying out into the dark night, over the heads of bewildered and regrouping-for-retreat marauders, straight out into the desert.

"Ye'll never make it!" Fletch shouted after them, momentarily looking away from the earthpony he had been clashing with, "Turn back! Turn back...!"

He was calling out into nothingness. The flutterponies were already gone... and the leader of the marauders, keen to follow, had already begun to rally his clan and head off into the night after them. Fletch watched them go, his heart still pounding in his ears from the exertion. His camp - what of it still existed - was safe, and that was what mattered... he wouldn't be going after any pony foolish enough to disappear into the desert in such way. And yet, his mind wandered after them, hoping they would stay safe, even as he rounded his family and prepared to move on.

* * *

It seemed like they'd been flying for days. Really it had only been several hours. It was enough. Sharing the load of Kibeth between them, with the filly flailing and eventually quieting, was tiring without the constant flutter of their wings. Still, they made good time as they raced forward; after the first hour and a half, the marauders had been lost in the distance. Still they kept flying, fearing they'd appear over the horizon in an instant. They flew until the sun was beginning to rise over the dunes and the sky began to lighten; then they finally landed.

Out-of-breath, exhausted, their muscles aching, Ichna and Chaldor crash-landed in a small dune and simply lay there. Kibeth stood to her hooves and began crying, but both her parents had fallen unconscious. The foal cried for many minutes before realizing it was doing nothing; she curled up near their bodies dejectedly, waiting for them to arise.

When the hot sun began to bear down on their thin hides, scorching their skin, Chaldor finally awakened. Ichna was dozing, but at least she was alive. Kibeth immediately noticed her father was awake and perked up, but she didn't stand. Chaldor nuzzled her to her hooves and found her covered in sweat.

"We need to find shade..." he gasped for a bit of breath before stumbling over to Ichna and nuzzling her awake.

"What... where...?" she asked before her senses came to her and she remembered exactly what had happened the night before. The chase, their separation, the long night of flying. Her wings did an ample job of reminding her of that point. She started a moment before she realized Kibeth was standing nearby; at this she heaved a sigh of relief.

"We need to find shade," Chaldor dully repeated for his wife's benefit. She drug herself to her hooves and they slowly made their way to the top of the dune they'd crashed into, tripping once or twice but finally cresting it.

A huge expanse of sand and many more dunes lay out before them, an insurmountable wasteland with little to console them. There was a rock formation, gray, standing like a forgotten ruin a quarter-mile away. It looked like some giant creature's skull, riddled as it was with a few cavernous depths that provided some of the only darkness on the landscape. Shade was a welcome sight and drew the ponies almost as easily as water would have. Kibeth followed along as her parents patiently trotted at her pace. The exercise was evaporating sweat from their hides but they were losing water quickly, and each step seemed painful.

Still, they managed to make it to the outcropping. A few stunted plants, an unhealthy yellow-green color, grew on the leeward side. Moss gathered there, too; Chaldor hungrily licked at it, his rough tongue dislodging bits of it but the greenery did not satisfy his hunger much. He left the plants in the sand to his wife who quickly grazed them away, grateful for the sustenance they provided. Kibeth cried and Ichna fed her, but it was a laborious process. She nearly fell asleep. Chaldor could feel his own eyes drooping wearily.

"Maybe we should rest in the shade a moment," he offered. His wife weakly nodded. Kibeth, with a full stomach, was already lazily spread across the sand in one of the darkest cast shadows. Chaldor's eyes raised up the side of the rock to one of the openings, and he decided to fly up to it. His wings cried in pain but he ignored it.

The opening was big enough for two ponies. He dropped back to the sand and relayed this to Ichna. Gratefully she kissed him on the cheek before grasping Kibeth by the scruff of her neck. The filly awoke and looked upset. Her little wings hummed and she generated a bit of lift, but when Ichna let go of her to see if she could support herself, the filly plummeted to the ground. Dismayed, Ichna helped her up to the opening instead.

A few bugs scuttled around inside, but the flutterponies were far too tired to care. They weren't brightly-colored so they probably weren't poisonous. This was all Ichna thought before curling up to sleep in the hole, because otherwise the surface of the stone was surprisingly cool to the touch. Kibeth was asleep shortly after.

Chaldor took over Kibeth's spot in the deepest shade of the large outcropping, dozing off only after he heard his wife and child's soft snores from above.

* * *

It was late afternoon, deepening into early evening, when a sound awakened Chaldor. It was a snuffling noise, right next to his ear, and as his mind slowly brushed away the thin curtain of sleep, he felt something wet in his ear. This helped him awaken with haste, and as he sat upright in the sand, something - blurred by his newly-opened eyes - skittered away from him, a small fuzzy thing that immediately took a tight turn around the rock outcropping and out of sight.

Since it didn't seem to be attacking him, Chaldor took a moment to focus. He smacked his lips and felt their dry, rough exterior, his tongue brushing over the cracks that were beginning to form as his body dehydrated. He shoved himself to his hooves and felt the ache of sore muscles, but also felt renewed strength. It would hurt to walk for the first several moments, he was certain, but he knew he could do it, as opposed to hours before when he'd barely been able to stand.

His eyes traveled up the outcropping to the tiny hole he'd managed to stuff his wife and child into. Some of Ichna's tail was hanging out the opening, and he felt relieved that she was, indeed, still there. He considered fluttering up to wake her, but whatever it was that had awaked him nagged at the back of his mind. Instead his gaze dropped to the edge of the rocky formation and he trotted carefully over to it. Slowly, he peeked around.

He came face-to-face with a fuzzy creature, a good three feet long from nose to tail. It was perched almost sideways on the rocks, its front hands grasping at the rock and back, tiny paws angled in an uncomfortable-looking fashion so they could both stand on the same scant ledge. It had huge, round eyes ringed by a mask of sorts. Its fur was all in light and dark browns, especially its tail which had chocolate brown banding all the way to the tip. Its bright golden eyes blinked at him; its whiskers twitched and it chittered curiously. Ever-so-slowly it reached out a paw to touch Chaldor's face, then immediately skittered back along the rocks in case there was some sort of backlash. Chaldor just blinked once.

"Ti'shek," he said aloud, naming the creature solely from hides he'd seen sold in the market. There may have been live specimens sold there, as well, but he'd never seen them. They tended to favor rocky outcroppings just like this one, far out into the desert and away from any sort of pony dwellings. They somehow managed to subsist on whatever the desert gave them, eating anything from plants to small animals, and filling their tails with water when it was available, but going without it for weeks if it wasn't.

For a moment Chaldor had the frighteningly tantalizing idea of chopping the creature's tail in half and drinking out of it. He quickly shook the idea away; there was no guarantee the moisture was held in there intact, and it was actually quite unlikely.

Chaldor trotted around to the other side of the rocks and flew up to the entrance to the small sleeping crevice. "Pssst," he hissed, and he saw Kibeth's ears twitch first. The filly awakened and turned her large, bright eyes toward the entrance. She looked started for a moment, but when Chaldor smiled at her, she calmed.

Ichna awoke from Kibeth's movements and yawned as she stretched, as much as she could, in the cramped sleeping spot.

"What time is it?" she asked, bleary, as Kibeth turned and, gleeful that her mother was awake, began to feed.

"It's nearing the evening. I think... I think we should start traveling again. We can't stay here forever, and the chances we'll come across water are better if we move."

Ichna watched him a moment before nodding slowly, "I suppose you're right."

The family readied themselves to move. Kibeth sniffed at the ti'shek that had wandered by and it poked at her nose as it came near; Chaldor and Ichna grazed on what was left of the plants surrounding the area, whatever they could find. Finally Chaldor looked toward the direction the sun was setting, and then pointed himself south. It was the direction they'd traveled the day before, and if he remembered his geography well at all, the island was wider from east to west than north to south... if barely. It was a meager thing to hope for, that they'd eventually hit the ocean and be able to travel along it, but it was more than nothing.


	10. Chapter 10 - End and Beginning

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Ten - End and Beginning_

The family traveled, slowly, for nearly an hour. The sun had nearly fully set, but during their travels they'd come across several small patches of plants - grasses, cacti, tiny shrubs - and they'd managed to subsist. Chaldor's stomach had gotten the better of him and he decided to try to eat a small lizard he'd seen sunning itself on a nearby rock. He knew ponies were capable of being omnivorous, though the majority chose not to. Now he knew why. The taste of iron as the lizard was crushed between his flat teeth was almost too much to take, but he held his breath and choked it down as best he could. He ended up licking a bit of sand to get the taste off his tongue, but the feeling in his mouth was something he'd never forget. Even though his stomach thanked him, he knew he'd be regretting it for years to come.

It was as they were laying down to rest their hooves and graze on some grass they'd found that Chaldor heard hooves pounding in the distance. It was some ways off, but in the near-darkness he could just spy a cloud of dust rising. His heart leapt before he could even stop it, knowing it could be marauders just as easily as it could be ponies from the caravan they'd escaped. They had nothing of value on them, but the marauders would assume they had come from somewhere and insist they be led there. Chaldor knew, from stories, that often they killed parents and took children into their employ, especially ones as young as Kibeth who, having little if any memories, they could probably prune to be completely loyal to their cause.

"Let's go," Chaldor told Ichna, trying to keep his tone from reaching into levels of alarm. Ichna nuzzled Kibeth away from nursing and then nodded, signaling she was ready. They took off at a slow trot, but every time Chaldor heard the pounding of hooves - even as far away as it was - he felt spurred faster, until they were running at a canter. Kibeth had to use her wings to keep up with her parents, and eventually Ichna helped the filly onto her back. She felt her legs groan under the weight, but it was easier to run knowing Kibeth wouldn't fall behind.

After another hour passing at this pace, the moon began to rise into the sky, its pale countenance sweeping across the desert and bathing it in a blue-white glow that made the landscape both thankfully lighted, but also quite eerie. The desert itself was beginning to change, with tiny hills changing to large dunes, some of which would have been nearly impossible to traverse if the ponies hadn't had wings. Chaldor's still ached, but a little pain was good for keeping him alert, and keep his mind off his desperate thirst and reappearing hunger.

Unfortunately, it was clearly evident by the sound of hoofbeats getting ever-louder that the ponies - whoever they were - had spotted them and were going to be upon them in another ten minutes at most, no matter what sort of pace they managed. Even as he pushed himself forward, Chaldor wondered if they should just stop and see who the impending ponies were... if it was really worth it to continue running. With Kibeth's strange mutation - handicap, as it were - it seemed they'd be running their whole lives. He was starting to feel a little delirious; would it really be so bad if they just laid down here?

Sweat poured into his eyes and stung; he cried out, shook his wet forelock out of his eyes, and urged himself forward faster. There were two more rises ahead of them; perhaps if they skirted them and then began to run along them, or find another rocky outcropping or dip, they could somehow escape notice. He prayed to Am'hatai for some saving grace.

Suddenly his vision flickered. It was the best way to describe it. For a moment it turned black, then there was a brilliant flash of white, then all was dark again. He slid to a halt - heard Ichna doing the same at his side - and blinked once, twice, trying desperately to regain his vision. He'd felt a strange, fuzzy sensation pass over his body, like some line of static electricity raising the fur on his body in a specific area as he ran forward. He didn't feel it anymore but his vision was slowly returning.

Before him - a long distance before him, probably several hundred feet - rose a tall - no, enormous - structure. It nearly blotted out the moon behind it. It was a giant tower, entirely in gray bricks but with detailed, artfully-twined spires and balconies, rising into the sky. He had to crane his neck backward just to see the top, where he noted seven smaller towers stood. Lights flickered in windows here and there, but for the most part the structure was dark. It was surrounded in a wrought-iron gate, easily ten feet tall, with an entryway through a set of intricate double-doors to the right of where Chaldor and Ichna were facing.

Chaldor gulped. Instinctively he backed up several paces, and instantly he felt the tingling of whatever gate - or field? - they'd passed through on his backside. He backed up further, further, until his vision flickered again and everything before him disappeared, leaving only the yawning stretch of dunes before him again. His jaw fell agape and he pounced back through the barrier again. He was at Ichna's side once more; she had a panicked look on her face that quickly slackened as she saw her husband return.

"There's some sort of barrier..." he whispered to her, his eyes still on the tower. It felt almost as though it could lean over at any moment, and all of the intricate details on its upper structures would rearrange into teeth while a gaping maw swallowed them whole. He knew it was a silly thought, but his heart raced anyway.

Then he heard the thundering of the hooves again. This time they were close. He felt spurred forward once more. He looked, painfully, over his shoulder to Ichna, who watched him run for a moment before her thin, graceful legs lifted into equal motion and she pushed forward.

He heard the ponies break through the barrier behind them; heard the startled whinnies and surprised shouts, the clank of armor and weapons. It was the marauders. He knew he needed to keep as much water in his system as possible but he broke out in a sweat he couldn't prevent. His gaze zeroed in on the front gates as the marauders - clearly not as stunned as he and Ichna had been - immediately caught up to them.

He heard the distant shout of 'marauders'. It sounded like a dream. Was it Ichna at his side? Of course not. Then he felt a sudden pain in his chest, another in his shoulder, and yet another in his side, like a cramp in his lungs. _Keep going forward!_ his brain urged him, but his legs crumpled almost instantly beneath him and he skidded on his side, piling up sand before him until his body halted. His sides heaved quickly as he gasped for breath and found it hard to bring in. He didn't understand it, the pain in his chest; how was it any worse than the rest of his aching body as it yearned to continue forward, what had stopped him? Dizzily he looked around, his rolling eyes finally focusing on the pale white fletching of two separate arrows, almost ghostly as they stood up against the sky, shining in the midst of the blanket of stars overhead. It took him a moment to pick the deep brown wood at their bases out; to follow them down to his chest.

"Ichna," he gagged. It was hard to speak; his tongue felt hindered. He was reminded of the lizard; iron, a metallic taste. It might have made him queasy if he weren't so dazed.

The marauders who had seemed so close moments before... their hoofbeats sounded as though they'd hastily put on cotton shoes. His neck muscles shrieked at him but he turned his head. He saw Ichna lying beside him. Six arrows, in his dimming vision, were large stars in the sky, like Am'hatai's eyes, watching him closely. He saw, beyond her, the bodies of two others. Grown ponies, what looked like a pegasus and unicorn. He was certain the shouts he heard were 'Retreat, retreat!', but he couldn't see any other ponies. Maybe they'd disappeared beyond the veil already.

Chaldor's eyes returned to his wife. He tried to pull himself toward her but found he didn't have the strength. He saw her eyes on him and felt his heart reach out to her, but shortly he noticed her eyes were simply looking beyond him._ Why?_ was one of his only thoughts. He felt his lungs refusing to pull in air any longer. Normally he would have panicked but his body was not responding. His mind was already drifting away, as if heading off to sleep, perchance to dream. It was only in the bath of the moon's soft gleam, paired with the stars, Am'hatai's ever-seeing eyes, that he noticed movement. Another pale glow, as if the moon had come down to guide him to sleep. His filly, Kibeth, with her glowing horn, attempting to struggle out from under her mother but unable, bleating pitifully.

_She's alive_... was his final thought before he embraced the darkness of sleep - unconsciousness - and began to travel The Road, by the grace of Viridia.


	11. Chapter 11 - The Tower Ponies

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Eleven - The Tower Ponies_

It was mere minutes later that Alile reached the bodies of the ponies the archers had shot down. True to their duties, the moment the alarm had sounded - and it had rung through the hallways where the defenders slept like high-pitched thunder, nearly rattling books off bookshelves and ponies out of their beds - the archers were on their hooves and at the battlements, peering between the merlons and aiming their stationary crossbows down at the intruders. Only two arrows missed; the rest hit their marks, some falling, some fleeing beyond the magical barrier. As long as they didn't get any ideas about coming back through, they could go. It wouldn't be the first time marauders had stumbled across their hideout.

Still, as Alile's muscled form, deep gray but still visible against the night, shrugged into his red cape and stood before the bodies, there were immediately several things wrong with the scene. He turned his head, his gaze swiftly reaching the ponies who had been coming behind him and urging them to reach him more quickly. Dante and Randal were well ahead of the others, the medium-gray flutterpony twins carrying a stretcher between them with amazing haste, as though they knew each others' moves and could match them without tripping up.

"These two were not marauders," Alile's gruff voice pronounced as the flutters reached him, his nostrils flaring as he let out a frustrated snort, "and they had a child with them."

Kibeth was still struggling under the weight of her mother's body. Her horn had dimmed to nothing, a dirty white point on her forehead and not immediately noticeable as Alile took closer surveillance of the carnage and looked closely at the other felled ponies, whose ragged countenances and piecemeal armor and weapons clearly identified them.

"What's happened here?" a familiar voice caused Alile's ears to perk. He shook out his deep green mane in frustration, his eyes narrowing. It was Regulus, one of the captains of the tower guard, and he seemed not at all happy about having to make his way out into the desert so late at night.

"Two marauders, two innocents. And a child, still alive," Alile responded gruffly.

"A child?!" Regulus' voice dropped to a grating whisper; Alile winced, his ears immediately pressing back against his head as he turned to look up to the pony. Regulus' neon green hair nearly lit up the night. His beard - a strange thing to see on any pony, considering even the ones who occasionally grew them had to shave, but at Regulus' rank he was allowed to keep it - swished in the wind created by his hasty approach, and he shoved past the ponies who were already carrying stretchers with the dead ponies' bodies back to the tower.

"What do you mean, there's a child? Why did the night guards not mention this? Were the archers mistaken? Who is at fault here?," the barrage of questions stampeded from Regulus' mouth like so many spears, thrown in his anger as he noticed Kibeth's tiny body lying, exhausted, in the dip on one side of a small hill of sand. Her head was now curled defensively under her hooves as she was exposed to the night air; Randal and Dante quietly carried her mother away. Regulus approached the filly carefully. He figured she couldn't have been more than a month or two old, her wings underdeveloped and legs far too long for her tiny body.

"What's your name, little one?" he asked. Kibeth uncurled slightly and Regulus reached out a hoof to touch her shoulder.

The hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end and he felt a zap like electricity coursing through his body; a light zap, but enough to make him pull instinctively away. All he'd experienced was a jumble of memories and emotions, words and visions. He felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest and realized he was holding his breath. He exhaled slowly, trying to piece what he'd seen into something coherent and failing. The child was far too young to glean anything but her name: Kibeth. He had never experienced such a mental connection, however brief, and it dazed him.

As Regulus was regaining his composure, Kibeth rolled over and faced him, her large eyes peering up at him curiously, though they were filled with tears of fright. Her horn blinked a pale white light once, twice, as if alerting the flutter to its presence. Still, it took Regulus a moment to process it.

"She has a-..." but he trailed off, realizing he was voicing his thoughts aloud, a first for him considering his usually composed nature. He looked around to see Alile was the only other pony to hear him; the other flutter pushed forward and looked at what he was looking at.

"A horn," he stated flatly, as if he was unable to bring forth emotion even for this unusually rare discovery.

"Gather her up. Bring her back to Zith-lynd. We'll decide what to do with her there. Bundle her in your cape. Let's not leave her out here in the cold, at least. Bring her to counsel room five on the third floor," Regulus began delivering orders, something he found comfort in, in the strange situation. Alile heaved a sigh and removed his cape, draping it around Kibeth like a hooded cape, covering her flickering horn aptly before kneeling and hoisting her onto his back. She began to bawl immediately, and Alile rolled his eyes.

"Do we need a pacifier of some sort?" he muttered, but they were already headed back to the tower. His green eyes lifted to the seven spires atop the tower with reverence. "Am'hatai give me the strength and wisdom I need..." he trailed off, and began the trek back to the tower with due haste, hoping the bouncing of his withers would soothe the child somewhat.

* * *

The entrance gates to Zith-lynd were enough to allow six ponies through, side-by-side, with good reason, as was evident when you entered the atrium during the day; usually ponies would be bustling about from hallway to hallway, all concentrating intently on their current duties. As it was, in the middle of the night, the only ponies standing around were guards, those with night-related studies, and the occasional sleepless pony, wandering aimlessly. A few of these - all flutterponies, for nearly the entire occupancy of Zith-lynd was flutterponies - stopped to stare at Regulus and Alile as they made their way in. Alile's hard gaze fell on each one, silently instructing them to all be on their way.

The atrium was tiled expertly with fine marble in whites and pale grays. Where usually would stand a fountain or statue - the center of the impressive room - stood instead a series of seven tall slabs of marble, darker than the floor, and arranged in a heptagon shape, with their tops barely below the ceiling, which was at least fifteen feet high, if not more. The slabs had names chiseled into them. Aside from this decoration, the atrium seemed surprisingly bare to most visitors, its walls painted off-white and devoid of decoration and with only the simplest of light fixtures - spelled with magical light - adorning the walls.

As impressively large as the atrium may have been, it was dwarfed by the main hall, which was the bulk of the base of Zith-lynd. One could stand at one end of the hallway and it would take squinting to make out any pony at the other end, as wide as it was, likely hundreds of feet. The hall was tiled with the same white and gray checkerboard of marble, but here there was a lavish, deep gray rug bolted to the floor, reaching almost across the entire room, save where pillars - spiraled in shape - burst forth from the floor and reached up toward the arched ceiling to help support the floors above. On either side of the entrance to the hall from the atrium - which placed you at the hall's center - were staircases; four, one very close to each corner of the room, their worn stone steps wide and slowly inclined for easy use by ponies. Their railings were wrought iron, flecked with age, but clearly created by masters of design and scrollwork, and ponies dedicated to the smithing of metals.

On each wall, between the staircases and on either side of the atrium entrance - as well as a similar but smaller entrance directly across the room from the atrium - were tapestries. They were huge, elegant tapestries that must have taken years or even decades to weave, each telling its own well-worn story with timeless detail and adorned here and there with lavish golden thread and multiple jewels. Alile spared the fore-left tapestry a glance - as he often did - his eyes scanning the story for Am'hatai's eyes, the stars, diamonds fashioned into pointed shapes. It was the Creation story, the story that drove all of Azuyan, their world, and Alile found himself holding his breath at the beauty of the twinkling stars staring down at him as the group of ponies passed through a series of arches between the pillars toward the opening directly before them. Kibeth shifted on his back and he moved to accommodate her; before he could look back to the Creation, it was already too parallel to him to view. They took a nearly direct turn to the right, heading for the southeastern staircase.

The hallway the staircase lead to was vastly smaller than the main hallway, because the second floor of Zith-lynd (out of at least twenty) had a much lower ceiling, and was taken up mostly by living quarters. Here the hushed sounds of sleep could be heard. The main hallway was dim and the ponies' hoofbeats practically rang through it despite the carpets covering the plain stone floors. They made their way down, took a right down another hallway, and a left down another. Alile kept his eyes to the fore, ignoring the paintings and portraiture he'd seen a thousand times or more on his travels through the tower, 'till they reached a smaller, more hidden staircase that would lead them to one portion of the next floor. Guards stood at attention, here, for it lead to a more private, privileged area of the third floor.

"What's going on?" One of the guards queried as Regulus walked up, ignoring the stallion's purposeful look to his own detriment, as Regulus shot him a look that quickly quashed the question. Both guards looked as though they were itching to find out what the commotion had been about, moments before, and their gazes trailed over the hooded, concealed form of the small child on Alile's back. Even though the alarms only rang on the barracks floor - where the armies slept - they could be heard even all the way down here on the third floor, which meant a lot of questions that didn't deserve answers.

"Just do your job," Alile reprimanded the single curious guard; the other looked visibly thankful he hadn't decided to ask anything. The group of ponies ascended the staircase.

The top of the staircase opened up into a small hallway which lead to only six different rooms. Regulus took a confident right at the top of the stairs and quickly opened the small door to the room labeled 'Counsel Room 5'; Alile entered, and – after placing Kibeth on the long, wide mahogany table before them - immediately sat, even as Regulus was still gaining his own seat. The table , draped in a rich purple tablecloth, sat at the center of the room. The rugs below each seat were purple, as were the banners - six, three on each long side of the rectangular room, and each decorated in a silver griffin's head - which hung on the walls. Even the lights in the room seemed to glow purple, though it could have just as easily been an illusion.

There was a moment of silence before Regulus spoke.

"This is a grave matter. Innocents are dead. However, we will punish no one; there is no single pony upon which to place the blame... it is shared. If we raise this child, she must be raised without this being a determining factor of her adulthood. She is young enough that we can raise her with no memory of this.

"Alile, please instruct the training captain that there will be some changes to policy and procedure henceforth. I trust you to be discreet with this. Please wait a few days to propose this. I will speak privately with Dante, Randall, and the guards on duty.

"We will not speak of this, but we must all remember. It has happened before and it will happen again, so long as we wish to keep this tower safe, but we should do all there is in our power to keep it from happening regardless.

"As for the child's unique attribute," he paused but there was no motion needed toward Kibeth's horn to explain it, "it will not be discussed."

"Shouldn't we at least let the doctors see her?" Alile suggested, as carefully as possible.

"No," Regulus quickly countered, softly but with evident authority, "No one will see her. She will be kept in a locked room and tended to until such time as I decide what to do with her."

"And the Council? The Seven?" Alile asked, his eyes narrowing as the gears in his brain started to turn. He clearly didn't understand what was happening, but his reaction was to become distrustful and annoyed, rather than curious.

"They need not know about this, either; they have other things to attend to, don't you think?" Regulus asked this question in a condescending manner. It was true, the Council had been training for some time, and the Seven were not yet done with their zhufast. It seemed like something they ought to know about, but Alile kept quiet, even suppressing the caustic answer he would have liked to give to Regulus' back-hoofed reprimand.

"I trust you to keep quiet about this until a decision is made. I will come to you five days hence and we will discuss this in greater detail. Until then, Alile, please follow me to the eighth floor, maidservants' chambers. I happen to know of a recently-emptied room which we may keep locked. You will be taking care of the child."

"What?!" Alile's hushed whisper still reverberated around the meeting chamber, "you can't be serious. I have no idea how to take care of a foal."

"The maidservants can teach you. Or you could find a mother in the nursing quarters to ask a question of. Am'hatai knows you could use some time speaking with some mares, anyway," Regulus shot him a glance. He looked away when an extremely upset look suddenly passed over Alile's face, as if a particularly dark storm cloud had suddenly taken up safe harbor there and was floating around behind his eyes.

"This meeting is adjourned. May Am'hatai's many eyes always be watching over you," he waved a hoof dismissively, uttering the common phrase that ended most conversations. Alile sat motionless, still looking just as upset.

"Your protests will fall on deaf ears, Alile," Regulus finally heaved a sigh as he pushed himself to his hooves.

"Oh, I'm not protesting. I'm just wondering what you have to hide," Alile shot back, his still-narrowed gaze keenly following the other stallion's motions as he made for the door, then stopped. There was a short pause; short enough that even a pin could have dropped and not hit the ground before words were said again.

"Nothing at all, except our incompetence," he said coldly, refusing to even look back over his shoulder to Alile as if doing so would acknowledge the comment as more than a passing thought. Alile knew, however, that the pause was enough. More words than Regulus could have said in the entire meeting resided in that one, thoughtful pause, and even as Regulus left and Alile pushed himself to his own hooves, eyeing Kibeth warily, he vowed he would find out what that pause was for.


	12. Chapter 12 - The Secret

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Twelve - The Secret_

Alile knew exactly what quarters Regulus had spoken of, but Regulus had waited outside the door for him to follow along, anyway. He had shouldered Kibeth again; the filly had fallen asleep, and began to drool on his cape, but thankfully he could have it washed rather easily. The two ponies made their way up winding stairs, down hallways, up more flights of stairs. Neither of them complained; they were used to the tower rising so high into the sky and traversing its many staircases, and their legs were quite used to this work. They walked in silence, passing guard after guard with little more than a silencing look as they'd given the first few, until finally they reached the eighth floor.

It was divided into two separate sections; the left were the quarters of the kitchen servants, and the right were the quarters of the maid servants. "Servants" was really not the correct word; the ponies were there in part to learn, and they did chores around the tower in exchange for the teachings they received, along with free room and board. The right side of the floor consisted of three long hallways, down which were twelve modest rooms, each. It was at the very end of the third hallway that the locked room sat, undisturbed. It had stayed this way for quite some time... ever since Mistress Ashu had left Zith-lynd for other lands. Everyone had known her, and no one had the heart to take her old room for the last several years.

As such, when they entered it, it was covered in a thin layer of dust. Everything was in perfect condition aside from this, between the small writing desk, the tiny bedside table, the single-pony-sized bed (decked in modest bed sheets, no ruffles or lace to speak of), the armchair and dresser. The walls were a cheery pale yellow, while the majority of the decorations - bed sheets, rugs, the upholstery of the armchair - were in pale to dark blues. Despite the dust, the room still held a homey feeling, and Alile suppressed a smile at the sight of it. Regulus' beard wagged as he turned his head this way and that, peering around the room to make sure everything was in order.

"You can stay here with her for the night. Wait until nine of the clock, or so, before coming out tomorrow morning; all of the maids should be at-task by that point," Regulus harrumphed.

"You should probably go get some warm milk from the kitchen so she doesn't wake up crying in the middle of the night," he added, trying to be a bit more helpful. Alile didn't look appreciative of this effort but he nodded in understanding, even as he carefully lowered the filly onto the bed. Regulus watched for a moment before quietly shutting the door behind himself as he left.

Alile heaved a heavy sigh, his emotions - weariness through annoyance - finally fully visible in the slackening of his face and sudden appearance of wrinkles around his eyes. He was far too old for this sort of thing, and a hundred questions had started reeling through his mind the moment he'd noticed the lifeless bodies he'd stepped up to were innocent ponies that looked nothing like marauders. It was not unheard-of that the archers were misinformed, or that their spyglasses cracked or were foggy and they shot upon the wrong ponies, but it happened so infrequently, and the spyglasses had just been checked the day before...

He shook the thoughts away, tossing his deep green mane in frustration. This movement, paired with the noises his rump was making on the chair's cushion, awoke Kibeth. Her eyes fluttered open and then settled at half-mast, their gaze on him and seemingly reflecting his own weariness. She didn't fuss; she didn't make a single sound. Yet, he could tell, she was probably hungry. He rubbed a hoof on his forehead a moment, brushed his forelock out of his eyes.

"I'll be right back," he uttered. He didn't know if she would understand it, but it comforted him to say it out loud; the silence was too demanding on its own.

It was a quick trip to the kitchen a couple of floors below, but it took longer to explain to the night chef why he needed the milk put into a bottle. He skirted the chef's questions expertly; it became like sword-fighting for a moment as he defended, attacked, moved back for defense again. Who knew it would be so hard to explain retrieving some milk? In the end it helped to raise his alertness some. Before this whole ordeal had begun, he'd been sleeping soundly in his quarters. He just happened to be one of the first ones to the front doors after the alarm had sounded this time. Now he wished he hadn't been quite so hasty, as he made his way back up the familiar steps and slowly wound his way back to Kibeth's room.

The filly was watching him when he entered the room again. Carefully he approached her, and her big eyes stared up at him. Above them, the gleaming horn, flickering with a soft light that seemed almost calming. He blinked after watching it a moment, realizing it was somewhat mesmerizing. He absently wondered if it could cast some sort of spell but brushed that aside as idle thought. He offered her the nipple of the bottle, but she didn't seem interested. He frowned. He knew the filly needed to eat something but she seemed too dazed, suffering too much from shock to understand that need. He shoved the nipple toward her mouth but she backed away, nearly tumbling off the bed and suddenly looking frightened.

"Look. Good food, num num," he tried, giving the nipple a little suck. He nearly gagged. He didn't really like milk, and the taste of it warm was more than he could handle. Obviously he wouldn't be a proper role model for this undertaking.

Kibeth's eyes had started to wander around the room curiously. Rather than continue to force the bottle on her, Alile let her explore it. She tumbled harmlessly off the bed and trotted over to the desk, taking a clumsy seat in the chair there. She stared at a piece of paper that still lay on the desktop; nudged a charcoal pencil across the desktop with her nose. She tumbled off the chair - clearly she wasn't used to navigating pieces of furniture - and flutter-hopped over to the armchair, which she curled up into, suddenly seeming comfy.

It looked like she would make no further movement. How long had Alile been watching her? He glanced at the only window in the room - heavily barred with thick, rounded iron pieces - and noticed the sky was lightening. With frustration he offered her the bottle again; as her head turned, he turned the bottle with it, and finally managed to jam the nipple into her mouth, past the tiny teeth that were only just beginning to form there. At first she seemed repulsed, sucking only once before stopping and trying to pull her head back, but Alile was ruthless, driving it forward again, tired of playing this game and just wanting to get her fed.

Then she realized there was milk in the bottle and suddenly began to suckle. She started slowly, but with each successive pull on the nipple she was more interested, more eager, until she was thirstily sucking down half, three quarters, then the full bottle. Her little nostrils flared as she refused to let go of the nipple for an inward breath, and her horn dimmed, seeming to accept that she was busy with more important things. When she had finally finished, she let out a small but clearly satisfied burp. It smelled of milk and baby's breath and Alile backed off, his face taking on a clear look of repulsion. Kibeth watched him curiously, then suddenly mimicked the face, her tiny muzzle screwing up as her brow drew down indignantly.

Alile had to keep himself from laughing out loud, something the maids surely wouldn't appreciate at such an early time in the morning.

Then he felt the exhaustion setting in. He would have gladly made his way back to his bed if he thought his legs would allow it; already, though, his eyelids were beginning to droop. He climbed onto the bed and Kibeth followed him there, curling into the curve of his body as he lay out across the bed, thankful for its cushion beneath his suddenly-aching muscles. He watched as her eyes fluttered and she tried to keep awake long enough to watch him back, but soon she fell asleep. He would have watched her sleep if he, too, hadn't quickly drifted off after her.

* * *

As promised, the rising of the sun brought the bustling of all maids about the maid quarters. Regulus needn't have warned Alile to stay in the room past nine; it was nearly ten when his eyelids fluttered open and he started a moment, uncertain of where he was. His room was bedecked all in deep grays, so the cheeriness of the yellow and blue room was quite a surprise upon awakening. He instantly recalled the night past and why there was a gray-colored filly at his side. In the sunlight, while she was still dozing, she was a tender sight, and if Alile had been more tender of a stallion he might have nearly fallen in fatherly love.

As it was, though, he quickly slipped out of bed and away from her, as carefully as he could, trying not to wake her. The longer she stayed asleep, the better; he needed to grab himself breakfast and then see to his daily chores. He wondered if she would manage to occupy herself while he was busy; if she didn't, what then? Would she begin shrieking as children had a tendency to do? Would the maids be around to hear her?

He tried to ignore these nagging thoughts and he locked the door behind himself and carefully made his way down the stairs. He'd left the empty bottle in the bedroom; this had clearly been a good choice, as he was passing many a pony on the way down to the kitchen. All of them seemed to be snickering at him; absently he brushed a hoof through his unruly locks and found them to be quite misshapen. As a last-resort remedy he shook his mane out. It would likely have more volume than it tended to, but at least it would hopefully be straight. He tried to ignore the curious eyes that passed on him.

The cafeteria was its usual din and hum of ponies chattering and eating. It would stay this way for another hour, when the cooks began preparing lunch; ponies had begun eating breakfast as early as five in the morning. In their large, populated tower, ponies basically stopped by for breakfast when they could make it between morning meetings, chores, teachings, hobbies, and other things that occupied their lives. It was a constant mass of changing faces as ponies sat, gobbled down the day's offerings, and then quickly disappeared back into the tower.

Alile lazily munched on the oat pancakes that were being served, without syrup but with several slices of various fruits, from f'hassberries to bananas, on the side. The bananas were actually a rare treat, and absently Alile wondered when the banana-man had made a stop by the compound with his wares. He hadn't seen the elderly winged unicorn in some time and had remorselessly assumed the geezer had fallen over and died of a heart attack or some-such, off to walk Viridia's road and sell bananas to the spirits there. It was good to know he was still alive and kicking the bananas down off the trees, even if all it meant was that Alile got a rounded breakfast.

Once he'd stuffed himself as much as his stomach would allow - it seemed unusually upset, and he had several guesses as to why - he wandered back up the staircases toward the maid's quarters. He had nearly made it back to Kibeth's room when he was stopped on the stairs by someone much higher-ranking than he was; it was an obligation that he humor her requests.

"Good morning, Alile," Dream Keeper whispered in her usual melodious tones that tended to leave stallions tumbling head-over-hooves to rush to hear her every word. The tone did not work on him, but the badge hanging from the gray robes she wore - a black badge with silver script and a simple picture of seven lines - was enough to make him stop, lower his head to a bow, and acknowledge her. She was a member of the Gray Council, a caste of privileged ponies within Zith-lynd.

"Good morning, Dream," he muttered in return, trying to sound subservient but at the same time trying to keep himself closed to discussion. Dream Keeper didn't seem to be stopped by this tactic.

"Do you know what happened last night?" she asked directly, her wide eyes peering out from under the hood of her gray robes with clear interest, almost pointing at him as a culprit from the other side of her tiny, dainty muzzle.

"Ah, yes, the alarms went off; marauders. The archers dealt with them," Alile tried to quell the questions with as straightforward an answer as he could muster. He lifted his head purposefully and moved to step around her and continue his way up the stairs. Swiftly - with a surprising mix of grace and speed - the flutterpony mare moved to intercept him. Her eyes narrowed slightly; she was already beginning to sniff out that there was more to the situation than met the eye.

"Marauders? How many of them? Did the archers bring them all down?" She seemed impatient, and was clearly hoping the barrage of questions would make him decide to simply spill the f'hassberries about what, exactly, was going on.

"Er, several got away, but four were brought down," Alile's eyes turned away from her, moved past her; he looked up the steps toward the goal that was such a short distance away. His eyes began to water because he was looking directly out a window, straight into the bright sunlight that had already irritated his tired eyes before he'd glared directly into it.

"Is that sad to you? Was there nothing else you wanted to tell me? I hear Regulus got as sleepless a night as you seem to have," she probed, one of her back hooves tapping restlessly on the stair it was occupying.

"What do I care how much sleep that old goat got?" Alile countered, trying to bring her attention away. It was true that he didn't give a flying rat's butt whether Regulus had lost any sleep over the affair; hopefully the truth of the admission and his clear reluctance to continue the conversation would be a hint enough.

"I heard you even bothered the chef for some milk last night. What a strange request. Are you feeling all right, Alile?"

"Of course I am; actually, I'm full, and you're in the way of me making it to the bathroom in time for my morning d-,"

"Say no more," her voice dipped to a low tone of annoyance. Alile's face slackened to one of relief and he hurried around and past her.

Dream Keeper watched him go, until he had rounded the steps and continued upward, out of her line of sight. _What an odd response from that fellow, he's usually not so easily flustered_, she thought. She knew it had to do with the incident last night. She mentally considered her schedule for the day; she of course had training for several hours in the afternoon (an hour or two after a light lunch, likely), and while she was due to sit in on a teacher's class about herbology this morning, she was already tardy for it after having run into Regulus a moment before; there would be little lost if she simply skipped the class altogether.


	13. Chapter 13 - The Investigation

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Thirteen - The Investigation_

With little hesitance but much patience, Dream Keeper slowly made her way up to the barracks floor of the tower. It was a long way to climb, but she did it several times a day, and it was nothing compared to the training she and other members of the Gray Council endured frequently. As she rose to the warmer climes of the higher floors she longed to take off the robes - however thin they may have been - that seemed to weigh her down. Thankfully she was used to the heat and refrained from sweating; it was just highly uncomfortable. She tried to keep her mind off the irritation by counting the paintings on the wall as she passed each of them, until she'd reached the barracks floor level.

This level was only reachable by two sets of stairs, and each led only to a small, bare atrium with a single wooden door directly across from the stairs. On either side of the door stood two guards-ponies. She didn't need to say a single word to them; one noted her gray robes and badge and moved quickly to open the door for her to pass through. She tried to give him a smile but it didn't look as though he'd seen it under her hood; he simply looked nervous as she passed, then quickly but quietly closed the door behind her.

The barracks were one of the least-decorated areas of Zith-lynd, with the majority of wall-hangings being inspirational phrases; no portraiture or still-life paintings to be found. Hallways made a square around the edge of the floor, leading to sixty or so separate rooms. At the center of the barracks was the training room, a wide expanse - not nearly as wide as the great hallway on the first floor but quite enough room for training - of well-lit but decoration-less space. The floors were solid stone, chipped with age and dotted with neatly-repaired cracks. This was where the majority of the level's noise came from, as ponies from the barracks trained in their respective areas, sometimes alongside other Gray Council members. Oliphaunt, especially - a flutterpony quite dedicated to training his body and one of the seeming 'heads' of the Council, aside from the Seven - was likely there, leading the troops in various drills.

Dream skirted the training hall and made her way to the west hall, where the ponies skilled in archery tended to reside. She carefully knocked on several gray-brown doors until an answer of 'yes?' came from within one, and she pushed it open.

It was Dillon's room, the placard on the door stated. The black flutterpony - his lime-green hair wet, likely from a recent shower - sat on his bed as Dream entered, his eyes expectantly on the door. When he saw the gray robes trailing her front hooves as they stepped into his room and shuffled on the carpet there, he immediately leapt off his bed and stood to attention, trying to discreetly blow his wet forelock out of his eyes.

"Councilmember, good morning! What is the occasion that calls for your presence...?" His eyes were pointedly not on her, instead staring at the wall across from him.

"Myshna, my name is Dream Keeper. Ease take you, Captain Dillon," she said in a formal tone, and he settled a bit, sitting back onto his bed and turning to face her, clearly still curious. Dream Keeper cleared her throat as she tried to word her query properly.

"I want to know about last night. Were you on the battlements when the alarm sounded? I assume since you are not in the training classes..."

"Yes, I was," Dillon said in a much-subdued tone compared to his previous, eager welcome. His gaze lowered to the floor.

"Then I assume you helped shoot down the marauders," she pushed forward, at once trying to comfort him, for she knew it was never an easy task to defend the tower with such means, "I thank you for your dedication to our cause and your skill."

"Uhh... thank you, Councilmember. Thank you very much," he tried to sound appreciative but it rang hollow, especially in his bare room and with his head lowered. He seemed distraught.

"Is there something wrong, Dillon?" Dream hoped she wouldn't have to actually probe into the incident and the information would come on its own.

"Well," he began, glancing up at her sheepishly a moment before heaving a sigh and continuing.

"When I heard the alarms and jumped out of bed, I knew I'd be the first to my post. It was my first time; I was so excited! Then when the Archer-Master - it was Master Firecracker last night - called everyone to target the intruders, I remember feeling my heart in my throat and trying to swallow it. I accidentally fogged up my distance-lens, so I rubbed it dry with my muzzle.

"By that time there were others... they were already shooting. I re-aimed my crossbow. Then I noticed two of the ones we shot down were flutterponies. Gray flutterponies. And I just locked up. I saw the bodies of my friends there, and I just locked up. I ended up getting a shot in at one of the fleeing marauders but he still managed to get away."

Dillon sounded like he was beginning to choke on his words. Dream Keeper entered his room further and took a seat on his bed beside him, hoping it would help him calm down a little. He was clearly distraught.

"I just didn't realize it would be so hard to shoot down ponies. Maybe they are marauders, but they could be someone else's friend or someone else's parent. I just... I don't know if this archery thing is for me. At first I really liked being at the top of my class, hitting the target so often, but it's... such a different thing when you're shooting at real ponies..." His story slowed to a halt.

Dream Keeper waited a moment to make certain he was done before she nodded sagely. She pushed her hood back, off her head and away from her face, and smiled sympathetically as she placed a careful hoof on his back.

"You did no wrong, I understand the difficulty. If you do not feel comfortable being an archer, then by all means please visit a Councilmember so we can reassign you. There is no shame in finding you are not cut out for a certain profession, and certainly no shame in feeling remorse for taking a life, whatever life it may be.

"Please do not dwell on it further, and visit me in my office in the eve; we can discuss moving you to a different department that suits your needs better. I realize you are a new member of Zith-lynd; it is practically expected that you will switch professions once or twice before you find the one that you wake happy to be a part of each morning."

Dillon nodded, wordlessly.

"Just start thinking about whether there is anything else you'd like to do," Dream Keeper offered as she stood to her hooves and made her way to the door.

"Is that all you came to talk about, Councilmember?" Dillon asked, suddenly remembering she had come to him seeming to want more information. Dream Keeper paused at the entrance to the room and considered.

"Yes, that is all. I will see you later. Mysha, good Dillon," she closed the door as she backed out of the room.

* * *

As much as Dream's Councilmember-duties side insisted she begin thinking about Dillon's future career choices, she couldn't help but let her mind wander about the previous night's events. If it really had just been marauders, as she'd been told repeatedly, why did it seem as though everypony was being so secretive about it? She recalled Dillon saying something about two of the ponies that had been killed being flutterponies. She couldn't think of any pony who had not shown up for their sign-in at various duties - for something like this was a grave offense and often reported directly to the Council members - so surely the flutterponies hadn't been any of the members of Zith-lynd?

As she walked down the stairs to the next floor, she asked a passing pony what time it was. As it turned out, it was nearly time for her to eat the light lunch she'd been pondering earlier. But she was intrigued; she wanted to head by the Resting Grounds to check in on the casualties, see if they had been given proper cremations yet. Nothing about the situation felt right to her, and she was absolutely determined to figure out why.

In the cafeteria she gathered a small plate of food for herself - some carrot sticks, a few bread-buns, and a full banana - and ate quickly. She received a few stares from ponies seated around her in the cafeteria, for it wasn't often that Councilmembers ate there. Then she remembered her hood was also still down from her encounter with Dillon. She lowered her head and pushed the hood back over, obscuring her face with shadows. Some of the gawkers turned back to their food, and some small part of her thought _Just as it should be!_

When she was finished, she made her way down more sets of stairs to the great hall on the first floor. She was too busy to look around at the tapestries as she usually enjoyed doing; instead she headed straight for the doors across from the atrium: the back doors to the tower, which led out to various out-buildings and the garden.

In fact, the doors - slightly smaller than the doors at the entrance of the tower - led first into a long hallway, at the end of which was a set of glass doors which let light in. The hallway, made all in silver-white stone bricks and much less dark-seeming than the main tower, was actually quite refreshing. There was something about knowing one was on the only level of a building that seemed to take the weight off her shoulders. It was calming to look outside and see the ground at one's hooves rather than stories and stories below (one reason why she'd requested curtains for her room, which was quite high up in the tower, itself).

About halfway down the hallway, on the left, was a heavy metal door. Not many rooms in the tower had metal doors, but they had quickly found the cremation rooms were deserving of it, lest the smoke and scents waft out into the hallway, or into the tower. They weren't pleasant; if the wind happened to shift in the wrong direction while the Resting Grounds personnel were working, the smell sometimes wafted into the higher rooms in the tower. Upset ponies would immediately begin calling down to the cremation rooms requesting the process be stopped and wait for another, less windy day.

It took all of her weight, but with work Dream Keeper managed to push in the heavy door and step into the room, which was surprisingly dark. It smelled of stale smoke; this was a good sign, she figured, as it meant no bodies had been tended to yet. Of course, it meant the room also smelled like sweaty, lifeless flesh... possibly a worse smell than that of purified bodies being sent to their final resting place. Dream Keeper tried to keep from gagging as she sucked in a breath through her mouth.

"Who's there?" an irritated voice called from the back of the room - one of about six dedicated to the task. Dream tried to focus her eyes on the back of the room and could not; everything was darkness, until suddenly the 'shhhink' noise of a curtain sliding on metal rings along a curtain rod reached her ears and sunlight blasted into the room.

A silhouette blocked the sunlight momentarily, until it finished adjusting the curtains and affixing them to the walls so they wouldn't flutter around. This was especially prevalent when wind managed to come in through the few chimneys in the rooms, if they weren't being used; Dream imagined it would be quite hard to keep from setting the curtains on fire if they were fluttering around in the uneven pressure of the room.

"What do you want?" the irritated voice came again, as the silhouette stepped aside from the window and into the light.

It was Amethyst Reverie, one of the only dragons in the Zith-lynd compound; most of the ponies were flutterponies, but there were occasional odd ponies here or there, ones brought in for specific tasks, like the strange head-chef the tower employed. Dream Keeper shook thoughts of that odd pony out of her mind as she approached Amethyst.

The dragon was true to her name, a brilliant purple color, from her nose to the tip of her tail, except for the small shock of pink that constituted her forelock and a similar tuft hanging from the end of her tail. She was intimidating, with a single sharp horn tipping her nose, a pair of flexible fleshy horns straddling her webbed ears, a series of sharp ridges traveling down her spine, between the huge, bat-like wings that often were open at her sides so she could use the clawed fingers protruding from their tops.

Dream Keeper certainly didn't want to rile her, especially since she worked with the tower on a sort of commission. She was not like most of the others living in the tower, who bowed to the will of the Gray Council and the Seven; she was an Outsider who was being paid handsomely to do the work she was doing. She was actually hoarding it - for what, she never told anyone. Dream always assumed it was just her natural tendency, as some dragons seemed to follow the same patterns.

"I... I came to see the bodies of the marauders, brought down last night," she faltered as she pushed her hood back, trying to show Amethyst she respected the dragon and her profession.

"You're lucky you came this quickly, they were just about to be ash," the dragon spat - literally, for she flung a wad of spit on the floor at the end of her sentence - before turning, her tail flinging out behind her, and walking toward the second of the six rooms. "Back here," she muttered.

This room was much smaller than the main one Dream had entered, an offshoot basically, and the barest amount of light came into the room through the heavy black grating above the room's vaulted chimney, which actually angled slightly sideways before traveling up so that any rainwater that came in through the grate would fall into a sluice below it and pour into water collection tanks behind the Resting Grounds.

The room was not decorated. All that stood within were a series of stone tables, sitting high above the ground. Four of the six in the room had bodies resting on them, thin white sheets covering them from sight and simultaneously keeping most of their likely sickening smell in.

"I am to understand two of the bodies are flutterponies...?" Dream queried somewhat pointedly. Amethyst - who was at least a couple of feet taller than she - looked down at her and narrowed her eyes, as if to say 'Can't you just climb up and see for yourself?' After a moment, with Dream looking up at her with her facial expression a mix of a grateful request and sheepishness, the dragon huffed.

"Yes, two are flutters," she stomped over to the tables and, using her right wing-claw, flung the sheets off the face of the two furthest from the entrance to the room.

Dream had mentally steeled herself as much as possible but still winced when she saw the bodies there on the tables. Amethyst had done a good job of preparing them for their souls' walks on the Road, so no arrows stood out of them, no gore painted their bodies, and their eyes were softly closed. But Dillon was right: they were shades of gray, and they looked no different than many of the ponies she passed in the hallways each and every day... except their wings didn't glitter, their sides didn't heave with the motion of breath. They were dead.

Amethyst seemed angered by the flutterpony's complete silence.

"I have a job to do, you know. Are you just going to stand around and stare at them? Should I go burn some other bodies?"

"U-uhm... no, that's all right, I don't need to see them anymore. Perhaps you could tell me, though... do these two look like the normal marauders you see coming through here? Do they look like the others?"

Amethyst snorted and Dream caught her eyes rolling.

"How should I know, Council-flutter. I don't give them autopsies, I just say their Ending Prayers and light 'em up."

Dream sighed. She was a bit frustrated herself with the dragon's reluctance to help but tried to stay congenial.

"I'd appreciate it if you could just give it a bit more thought..." she tried. Amethyst harrumped, a small spurt of smoke puffing out her nostrils. Her tail began to flick behind her, left, right, left, right.

"They look a bit cleaner than most marauders. And the marauders usually aren't female. This one is. And she looks like she was recently pregnant, at least if all of that excess skin is any indication," and here the lizard stuck her tongue out, making the universal face for disgust, though it looked quite frightening on her between her pointed face and sharp, white teeth, "I don't think they usually let the womenfolk go traveling the sands so shortly after birth, if ever; most of the women they just keep around at the camps, and they get 'em pregnant again right after they're done."

It was a little more than Dream wanted to hear, but helped put a few more pieces of the growing puzzle together for her. They weren't assembling into any sort of recognizable picture, but maybe they'd get there eventually.

"If you're done..." Amethyst eyed her pointedly.

"Oh, yes, of course, I'll be out of your way, then. Good luck," Dream turned to go. The moment her back was turned, Amethyst began reciting the prayer to Am'hatai, a soft whisper. Dream paused in her step to listen, but the words were unintelligble. She'd been told it was spoken in a different tongue than the present-day, but she had never taken an interest in it before. Despite the dragon's gruff personality, which reminded her of several other flutters she dealt with on a daily basis, her song was soft and hauntingly sweet. Dream recognized one word - Viridia - before the heat of a sudden blast of fire radiated out into the main room.

Amethyst saw the flames flickering in the direction of the door as they tried to eat the air traveling in through it and her gaze followed over to Dream. Her eyes narrowed and she kicked out a hoof, slamming the door shut nearly in Dream's face and startling the flutter back a few paces.

Gathering her composure, Dream left the room before it began to smell too much like the cleansing fire that would greet her at the end of her days.


	14. Chapter 14 - The Magician

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Fourteen - The Magician_

There was a soft knock on the door. Regulus usually wouldn't have allowed visitors in his office, but he was feeling particularly frustrated with his current work - specifically how slowly he seemed to be going, as his mind kept wandering off - and decided to humor the knock.

"Come in," he called, his voice echoing through the small chambers, about the size of any pony's modest bed room but with only a desk and a couple of chairs to fill it.

"Myshna, Regulus," Dream Keeper bowed slightly as she entered, immediately thrusting her hood off over her head and taking a prompt seat in front of his desk. He didn't even have time to stand, to offer her the chair, to come to attention before she was staring him down across the desk.

"I am to understand innocents have been slain," she broached the subject quickly, like a fluid sword-strike; if it had been so tangible, it would never have been seen before piercing his breast. He gurgled a bit in surprise, even though it was not a physical attack.

"Well... yes," he admitted with a deep sigh, "they must have been lost in the desert and chased by the marauders. We have no idea why the archers didn't notice they were being chased, but... what is done is done." He raised his head as he finished speaking, a cold gaze meeting Dream Keeper's fiery one across the table. There was a tense moment of silence as their gazes battled and they considered their next words.

"They had a child with them," Regulus finally offered. He knew he had no chance of hiding this from Dream Keeper and her heated glare suddenly made an idea spring into his mind. It would be impossible hiding the child from the Councilmembers, but if one of them knew about it and could help integrate the child into their life here...

"A child?" Dream Keeper's eyes suddenly softened and she seemed to despair, "I did not see a child when I visited the Resting Grounds." A small shudder went through her body as she considered this. Regulus let it set in a moment, even if it was a bit cruel of him.

"She's alive, and unharmed. Alile has been taking care of her," Regulus soothed, his chin-beard waggling with his drawl. He was pleased to see her visibly relax.

"That explains why Alile was dodging my questions this morning, when I ran into him," Dream said to herself, aloud, "I thought it was quite strange he was getting milk in the middle of the night."

"But why did you not tell the Council about this?" she turned on him. This was a trickier one to answer. He didn't want to tell her about the child's strange mutation, the real reason he had kept the pony from the others' view. He turned away from her in his seat to look out his window, which really just looked down upon the out-buildings and was of no real consequence. He saw smoke rising from the chimneys of the Resting Grounds.

"We didn't want anyone being punished for the mistake," he finally confessed, a regretful tone in his voice. "We've been hiding the child so... no one will think they've made a poor filly motherless."

Dream Keeper's eyes dulled a moment as, inwardly, her mind drifted back to her conversation with Dillon, earlier. He was so distraught about what had happened, she certainly didn't want him to find out what he might have had a hoof in doing. As much ire as it raised in her chest that the truth had been hidden from the Council, it seemed the correct thing to do. At least for now.

"May I see the child?" she finally asked. Regulus whipped around in his chair, then.

"No. She's too startled, she's been through too much... we're keeping her safe, Alile is looking after her. She's quite young, maybe only a month or two old. I will bring her out for you to see in perhaps a week's time, once she's gotten acclimated to where she is.

"I will need your help integrating her into our society... finding her a class to learn in, ponies to watch over her. She's going to need some special attention so she does not wander from the path as some previous students have..."

"I understand," Dream nodded solemnly, "I can assist you with that."

"Excellent. I'm glad you are so understanding. I apologize that we had to keep this a secret from the Council, and especially the Seven. You can understand how some of them might react... unfavorably. We have lost too many good ponies..."

"I agree," Dream nodded, lifted herself out of the chair. This time she remembered to pull her hood back over her head, before she was subject to too many more stares.

"Thank you for your time, Regulus, and your foresight. Myshna, and good afternoon, I must be off to my training."

"Yes, of course; may Am'hatai's eyes watch over your work," he stood as she departed, watching the door close behind her. Only when he heard the trailing sound of her hoofbeats disappearing down the hall did he heave a sigh of relief and relax from his straightened position.

He would need to tell Alile, and they would need to visit the Magician as soon as possible. Who knew if Dream Keeper could be trusted, or would even wait as long as he'd requested before she try to check in on the child. He knew she had a soft spot for them; every mare seemed to. But she couldn't see the filly with that horn. Something had to be done. Soon.

* * *

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. It was dimming from twilight to black-of-night when a rap-rap-rap came at the door of the maidservant's room, where Alile was resting with Kibeth beside him. The filly awakened first, and began to burble excitedly, interested in whatever the noise was. Alile started awake and nearly fell out of the bed. No one had bothered him all day since Dream Keeper's interrogation - possibly because he'd spent much of it sequestered in the room, trying desperately to entertain Kibeth - so to be visited by someone, especially when the room was, to all other ponies, locked and unoccupied was quite startling. Alile knew it had to be Regulus.

He scrambled over to the door and unlocked it, then quietly opened it. Regulus practically stormed in and bowled him over. The stallion's eyes were practically mad, his nostrils flaring. His teeth were gritted and bared and he searched the room wildly, once, before his eyes fell on Kibeth, and then quickly darted over to Alile, who was now on the floor, trying to pick himself up.

"We have to bring her to the Magician," he said in a low tone, practically a hiss.

"What?! Right now?" Alile asked as he quickly moved to shut the door - again, silently - since Kibeth seemed to be interested in making more burbling noises. Alile then crossed the room to her, and sat on the bed next to her. He grabbed a bowl of bananas he'd brought up into the room earlier and set it on the bed next to her, where she hungrily began to gum them down.

"Yes, now. Dream Keeper confronted me and I told her... well, I told her about everything. She could see it in my eyes. But I didn't tell her about this one's horn..." he was looking out the window as he'd done before, though now all there was to see was the dark pit of black that the ground became in the night, and the twinkling stars in the sky.

"Well, why didn't you tell her about the horn?!" Alile was admittedly puzzled. He wondered if Regulus would tell him the truth; if this was the thing he had been trying to figure out the night previous, the thing that had caused Regulus to pause.

Finally Regulus turned away from the window and his gaze fell on Alile. Could he be trusted? He wondered. He would need to trust someone; he couldn't do this on his own, he was certain. But he saw how close Alile had already become to the child in this short an amount of time. He considered it. Maybe half-truths were better than lies.

"It needs to be removed. It... possesses magical properties which would be of great use to the ponies here, and ponies all across Azuyan. But if it was announced - or the wrong ponies found out - she could be hunted for it. There is a spell... a very old spell. It might be able to remove the horn without injuring her, and then we could have both. No doubt her horn is the reason her parents brought her into the desert at such a young age. Something must be done..."

"Remove it?" Alile muttered as he looked down at her, happily swallowing the banana slices, one after another, getting banana chunks all over her muzzle.

"Yes, but the Magician will know what to do. I promise you that. But we must do it soon. Very shortly. Tonight, if possible. I requested that Dream Keeper wait a week before coming to me, but..."

"... she can't be trusted," Alile finished for him, with a relenting sigh.

"Right. Do you think you can help me get her to the Magician's study without anypony noticing?"

Alile looked out the window. It was definitely late in the evening. He glanced at Kibeth; she had finished the bowl of bananas as they talked, and was beginning to try to curl up on the bed and go to sleep. She would likely be quiet if they tried to transport her anywhere.

"It's several flights..." Alile voiced his uncertainty, but even as he did so, he saw Regulus' eyes, pleading with him, practically cajoling him. They seemed to say, 'what, you can't help me, this one time I have asked you to help me with something this important?' He was conflicted. But, in the end, Kibeth was just a filly he'd been taking care of for a day... Regulus was a higher officer than he was, and part of the ponies living in Zith-lynd. He had a duty, an obligation to them. He had to help Regulus.

"Grab my cape; it's in the dresser. We can put her on my back and drape the cape over her," Alile's face hardened. He began to push Kibeth onto his back; the filly didn't protest an inch, rolling into position sleepily, even letting out a quiet burp of contentment. Regulus acted swiftly, grabbing Alile's red cape and swinging it over the stallion's shoulders, covering Kibeth completely so that Alile simply looked like some unfortunate hunchback.

"If you fly alongside me and hide her..." Alile suggested, and Regulus nodded. After a moment of tidying the room, they stepped out, locking the door behind them, and made their way - as carefully and quietly as possible - up the least-used stairs toward the upper levels. The Magician's study was on the thirteenth floor. He was given a sprawling office in which to house his book collection, his magical components, anything he might need to do everything for the tower that was requested of him. And of course, the magical vault, where all of the curiosities, antiquities, and dangerous magical objects were stored... that took up nearly a quarter of the floor, and most of it was protection for what lay within.

Alile hoped they wouldn't be visiting that vault this night.

* * *

Thankfully the trip to the Magician's quarters was uneventful. They got a couple of looks from some ponies up late, but they were quickly quashed with inane chatter between the two stallions and then a stern look from Regulus that clearly said 'You're interrupting our conversation.'

The Magician's floor was not guarded as many other floors were. It was assumed the Magician could take care of himself, so instead the stairs led to a simple, small receiving area filled with waiting couches and a couple of tables, as well as reading material and pastoral scenes on the walls, and another set of stairs which led to the floor above. Normally ponies would sit on the waiting couches - which were lavishly upholstered in a soft, velvety purple fabric - and wait for the Magician to come to them, but this was more important. Regulus strode purposefully toward the only door in the room, which was actually a set of half-doors, upper and lower, wooden but painted a similar color to the couches.

Regulus rapped a hoof on the lower set of doors, three times and no more. His face was pulled down in sour annoyance as he waited for the Magician - who, it was well-known, rarely slept - to open them to their plea. It was at least ten minutes before the door was answered, and with each passing moment Regulus' face became more dour. Alile's legs had begun to complain about having carried Kibeth up all of the steps only to have to wait, still, for ten minutes, when finally the upper door swung inward and slapped on the wall inside loudly. Alile felt Kibeth shudder on his back and hoped, if she was going to scream, that she would wait to make a noise until they were within the Magician's room.

"Who is it? What do you want?" a cranky voice uttered from within. The flutterpony popped his head out the door. His purple mane was frazzled, fluffed, and misshapen; it seemed to be fighting against itself to pull in every direction possible. There was any number of different spell ingredients smudging and sticking to his face, neck, chest, sides... even his wings did not escape the damage, with one of them looking somewhat singed around the edges. It fluttered almost nervously, while the one straight across from it flapped, slowly and lazily, up and down, up and down. It was as if they weren't connected to the same brain. The Magician peered around the waiting room as best he could, considering his black-lensed glasses, which protected his wide-open and completely blind eyes.

He sniffed.

"Regulus, you old goat, is that you? You smell like bananas. Been getting a good amount of potassium in your diet? That's great. And you have someone with you. He smells teal. Is he teal? What are you doing here so late at night? I was just getting into my evening spells. It's usually about now when I start renewing the light spells. Is there a light out somewhere? Don't worry about it, I'm about to renew the light spells. This is when I usually do it."

The Magician rambled and Regulus waited impatiently for him to finish. As annoying as it was, there was no reason to raise the wizard's ire, especially not when they were coming to ask such a personal and important favor.

"I am here with Alile. We've brought a patient with us. We need your help, Indigaster," Regulus replied as patiently as possible.

"Yes, yes, of course, didn't I invite you in already? Come in here. I have plenty more bananas if you'd like some more. You're probably hungry being up this late. I know I am. I would probably be taking a nap if this wasn't usually the time I start renewing the lighting spells," Indigaster rambled as he turned on his heels and walked away from the door, leaving the bottom half closed. Regulus heaved a sigh and opened it for himself, standing aside so Alile could pass before closing both the top and bottom halves and locking them so no one would intrude.

The inside of the Magician's study was a wide open space, for the most part, only interrupted briefly with various load-bearing pillars for the floors above, all of which had any number of pouches or objects hanging from them. There were tables making a veritable maze throughout the room, all covered in any number of strange things, and Indigaster navigated these with precise skill, being as accustomed to his study as he was. He moved to a table at the back of the room - this one had a thick, black marble top to it - and took a large beaker filled with some sort of yellow, smoking liquid and poured it into the air. It dissipated into nothingness before their eyes. He uttered some incantation and a bright flash filled the study for a split-second, so short it was hard to believe it had even been there. All of the lights in the study suddenly burned brighter.

Indigaster shuffled over to another table and began to mash something in a mortar with a large, mouth-held pestle. Whatever it was he was mashing let out a hideous screech like a dying animal at first - perhaps it was - and the smell of roses filled the room. Indigaster's nostrils flared.

"Smells great, doesn't it?" he commented.

"Y-yes," Alile ventured.

"Now, what are you here for? Speak up while I work, I have plenty of other things to do," the Magician maneuvered to another table upon which sat a black, stone-like pyramid with the very point being made of gold. He breathed lightly on this and then whispered a word into it; one of the bricks in the side of the pyramid slid out and something dropped from it. Indigaster spread this out on a table.

"If neither of you are going to tell me what you need, please come read this for me," he hastily insisted, leaving little room for them to have begun an explanation anyway. Alile looked quizzically at Regulus, who shrugged solemnly and then stepped forward, winding carefully through the tables, to examine the tiny piece of parchment.

"It's a picture of a bird, some reeds, and a f'hassberry," Regulus muttered. He seemed upset it hadn't been something more interesting. Indigaster seemed to ponder this a moment.

"Yes, yes, I see. Now, what was it you needed?"

"We've brought a filly to you. She was born with a horn. We need it removed and I'm to understand there's a spell that can do this. Safely."

"A horn you say? Isn't that rather normal for unicorns? Why should you want it removed?" Indigaster took the piece of parchment and brought it to a wooden bureau at one side of the study. He pulled out one of the hundreds of tiny drawers, somehow knowing which ones were empty, and placed the parchment within.

"She's a flutterpony," Alile piped up, trying to be helpful.

Indigaster stopped mid-stride toward a different table. He turned his head one way and then another, as if he were looking around the room, though of course he wasn't.

"What did you say, then? She's a flutterpony with a horn? What does the Council have to say about this?" he hrmed.

"They think it would be best if her horn could be removed and she could be integrated into society," Regulus cut off any more of Alile's 'help' and stated, somewhat forcefully, "she's a young filly and she deserves a normal life, they say."

"Is that so. Well, I've never removed a horn before. Can't say I can't do it; I can do just about anything. It's just a matter of finding what book it's in and what ingredients it takes, I should think."

With that Indigaster changed course and headed for a tall form in one corner of the study. It was easily as wide as a pony, and shaped like a steep dome. A thin blanket was covering it as though protecting it from dust, but when Indigaster put his teeth to the blanket and pulled it off, it revealed something quite different than a piece of furniture.

Underneath was a giant, golden birdcage. The cage was intricate, probably worth a single pony's entire life's savings, bedecked with all sorts of rubies, diamonds, emeralds, inlaid with lapis and ivory and onyx, a rainbow of color and expense. What sat inside was easily the ugliest bird that ever existed. It was fat; much fatter than anything that could fly should ever get, so fat its excess hung all around the perch it sat on and completely covered its feet. The rolls of its massive stomach were featherless, instead showing wrinkly, sunspotted gray-brown skin beneath. The ratty feathers it did posses were scattered haphazardly over its skinny, tiny wings and its bulbous head. They were a mix of chartreuse and fuchsia, each with a tiny white tip. The bird had four miniscule, beady black eyes, sunken into its head so they were barely visible, unlike its gigantic, curved beak, which was barred in various browns, all of which resembled previously eaten organic matter.

The diseased-looking, obese monstrosity let out a surprised caw as Indigaster revealed it, but this sound was more like that of a strangled cat. It was sickening, and one almost longed to put the bird out of its clear misery just upon hearing it.

"Now, now, Precious, I know you were just getting your beauty sleep, but I need you to read something for me," Indigaster seemed to be trying to soothe the bird as he nosed open the latch on the cage. The bird let out a burble - somewhat like a disgusting burp - and hopped forward off its perch toward the edge of the cage. Somehow it managed to fly through the air, despite the fact that the mass of its fat hung all around it like hundreds of saddlebags.

"I need you to find me the lore on horns on non-unicorns, Precious, please," Indigaster requested softly, smiling at the bird as if it were his own daughter. The bird peered up at him with what looked like a glare but, for all Regulus knew, was admiration, before it began to flap its hideously frail-looking wings.

Somehow, it managed to take off into the air. It was almost as though it was levitating and flapping its wings was really no mechanism for flight at all. Clearly the bird was magic and able to fly by other means. It levitated across the room, toward Alile, who - with abject terror on his face - dodged out of the way. The bird ended up perching on what appeared to be a tall coat-dresser, but it managed to shove open the door with its beak. Inside were stacked, with no seeming attempt at organization, a number of dusty old tomes. The bird floated down to examine the books and, with a single look, 'grasped' a thin, black, leatherbound book with its levitation and floated to the table nearest Indigaster. The bird gagged, once, which must have been another of its unique caws.

"Good, excellent, Precious. What a pretty bird you are, what a smart bird. Excellent! Please read it to me."

The bird flipped the book open with its beak and, with wings outstretched as if balancing itself, it turned the book around and flipped through the pages, one-by-one, with its strange telekinesis.

Regulus had been with the Magician up to this point. The bird, read the excerpt to the Magician? Surely he jested. In truth, Regulus had never seen him reading from a single book in his entire study, but then, he hadn't visited Indigaster when he'd been doing anything other than his routine, daily spells, much like the spell for lighting the tower. But... the bird seemed almost clearly incapable of nothing but gurgles and strangled noises. Could the wizard understand this as some sort of speech, perhaps?

"All breeds in Azuyan are subject to this strange deformity (though some, such as the flutterponies and fairyponies, are more prone than others)" the bird began in a clear, carrying voice, sounding more practiced with the language of ponies than almost any pony he'd ever heard; the voice was almost enrapturing, as if it was coming from a siren itself, "There is no known cause for this; it was suspected to be inherited from the parents, but when lineages that were previously known to produce horn-bearing ponies were crossed, horns were not seen on children frequently enough to attribute the cause to certain family trees. No environmental factor could be found. The official consensus in the magical community is that this strange trait is randomly produced.

"Studies indicate the horn has little magical value, despite its connections. Studies to determine whether the horn was detrimental to the health or longevity of the pony were strangely inconclusive; all horned subjects were killed (by collectors hungry for the curiosity or ponies frightened of the deformity) or somehow disappeared from our various tracking systems at some point in their life.

"Much like with unicorns, the horn on other breeds seems not only directly connected to the skull as bone-matter, but also somehow faintly connected to the internal energies of the pony itself. In many cases the removal of the horn caused the immediate or delayed expiration of the subject. This meant further studies were needed. After many tests it was determined a great amount of energy needed to be put into the subject at the time of horn extraction, otherwise the balance of energy within the pony is irreparably shattered."

Alile and Regulus both watched with awe, even ignoring Kibeth's slight whining sounds from Alile's back as she pushed the cape off from over her. At this last paragraph, though, Regulus looked to Alile to find his face creased with worry, an emotion not often found on that flutter stallion. Regulus' eyes narrowed and he turned back to the bird.

"Hey. Bird. Uh... Precious. Is there a spell in there to remove the horn safely, or what?"

The bird shot an intense glare at him with all four of its eyes. This was definitely a glare; it fanned its wings and lowered its head in a provocative gesture, and turning to give Regulus a reprimanding gurgle for being interrupted.

"Now, now, Precious," Indigaster soothed, "he's just being impatient. You're such a good bird. Please see if the spell is listed somewhere. If there are incantations, please read them to me backward."

Regulus looked insulted by Indigaster's response to the bird, but at least the Magician was attempting to help them. It was so odd to think the Magician even had the forethought to request the incantations be read backward, but dwelling on it a moment, Regulus realized the first time the bird read them out loud, intact, had probably been quite the disaster and enough of a lesson for them both; clearly enough for Indigaster to train himself to turn the backward incantations around when needed.

As the bird began to talk to Indigaster about the various ingredients, processes, energies and chants necessary, Regulus sidled up alongside Alile.

"Do you doubt the Magician's skill?" he asked under his breath, his eyes on the reciting bird.

"Of course not," Alile returned quickly, as though he'd already asked himself the question and denied it.

"So you won't get in the way of this happening?" Regulus probed, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"No. If it's necessary, then it's necessary, and if the Magician says he can do it without harming her, then there is nothing to worry about," the reply came, somewhat dully.

"Yes, of course," Regulus nodded, attempting a bit of reassurance.

"We can perform the ritual tonight," Indigaster interrupted their halting conversation with the flourish of speech, a bit surprisingly, "Just give me an hour to set up. We will perform it in my Safety Box."

The Magician pointed to the distant corner of the floor, near the walk-in-closet-sized safe for the more dangerous or older artifacts, to where another, larger room lay, its metal door shut with a large bolt on the outside.

"Safety Box...? Alile repeated uncertainly.

"Yes, it's where I always do the spells I've never done before," Indigaster replied without a hint of dubiousness, "Reinforced walls and such. We'll be fine. I just like to make sure the Tower will be, too."

"I think your filly is getting cranky; perhaps you should find her a bottle," Indigaster then pointed out mysteriously. Moments later, though, Kibeth's face screwed up and she began to cry; it was as if Indigaster had known she would become upset at that moment. Alile looked startled, and immediately knelt on the floor and pulled Kibeth off his back, then tried to soothe her with nuzzles and soft cooing.

"I guess I'll go get her a bottle," Regulus muttered, turning tail on the scene as Indigaster began bustling around his tables and opening various drawers and cupboards to gather supplies.


	15. Chapter 15 - The Spell

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Fifteen - The Spell_

On his trip down to the cafeteria, which would no doubt bother the only on-duty chef since this was usually the time during which the cooks re-stocked and prepared for the rush of meals the next day, Regulus thought to himself. Everything was nearly complete, and if the horn could be removed intact and the child saved, so much the better. It was the horn he really cared about, anyway, and his fears were that Alile would get in his way if the filly were somehow harmed by its removal.

It was such a delicate matter, one he had hoped to be resolved quite easily but which kept gaining tiers of complexity. Originally when the phantom of light - he really had no idea what it could have been, but it was clearly powerful - had entered his room the night of the marauder attack, and tasked him with getting the horn from the child, he had no doubts he could do this with the utmost secrecy. He had hoped the archers would take care of the filly. Then, he had hoped to do it himself before anypony arrived on the scene, but Alile and the damned medics had beat him to it.

Then he had hoped to hide the matter within a small caste of ponies, take care of the matter on his own personal time, and return to them a week hence with the news the filly had died of shock, disease, her malformity... anything would have persuaded them. But then the Seven had called upon him - that familiar ringing sensation in his head that meant they requested his presence, and it had been such an unimportant matter it seemed almost as if fate were conspiring against him to complete the task - and he had to leave the filly in Alile's care. That was when he had to abandon the idea that he could simply dispose of the filly and retrieve the horn alone.

Now the task would be getting the horn away from the Magician once the ritual was done. He pondered this even as he was asking the chef on-duty for the bottle of milk. He feigned a wan look, citing a screaming youngster in the room above his as the cause of his late - or early - awakening and current quest. The chef gave him an upset glare, anyway, and stomped off to retrieve the milk for him.

The way Regulus saw it, he had only two options: to try to come up with an excuse for the Magician to give him the horn, or to take it in secrecy somehow. Obviously he could not use brute force against the Magician, and so the idea of a covert operation into the Magician's study when the pony managed to find a scant amount of sleep also seemed implausible; who knew what sort of alarms the pony had set up in his sleep, considering there were never guards outside his chambers. But what excuse could he possibly use to get the horn so soon after the ritual? Surely the Magician would want to study it...?

He wracked his brain and came to no good conclusion. There simply didn't seem to be a way to get the horn away from the Magician. At least, not one that wouldn't endanger his life, raise suspicion, or otherwise jeopardize his position within his society. The amount of gold the strange creature had offered was not worth being cast out into the desert to fend for himself; it was not worth his life. He knew where the horn would be, he would separate it from the thing the majority of the tower-dwellers cared most about - the filly - and hopefully that would be enough for the creature; if not to pay him, then at least to leave him alone.

He trudged his way back up the stairs, up to the Magician's floor, slowly. The entire trip took him nearly a half-hour, and as he opened the doors to the Magician's study he immediately saw Alile's eyes on him; the flutter stallion was hovering, matronly, over Kibeth, who was still bawling. The gaze was like one a wife, left alone for hours, might give her husband, returning with alcohol on his breath. Regulus rolled his eyes in plain sight, dropping the bottle on the ground at Alile's hooves.

"Here's your milk," he muttered as he glanced around the room. It was surprisingly quiet, and he noted the Magician was nowhere in sight.

"Where did Indigaster go?"

"I was busy paying attention to Kibeth."

"Did he leave?"

"How should I know?" Alile huffed before picking up the bottle in his mouth and handing it to Kibeth. The filly gratefully grasped the bottle in her front hooves and held it up to her mouth, began suckling with fervor.

"Did you hear the door open and close?"

"Of course not; all I heard was Kibeth crying her eyes out."

"Did he leave for supplies? Is he nearly ready for the ritual?"

"I don't know, I don't know," Alile replied, clearly frustrated beyond his capacity to continue trying to answer questions he had no answers for. He growled in exasperation and turned way from Regulus.

"You sound like you're married. Did you get married recently? Good for you! All types in the world, all types," Indigaster suddenly spouted. He had popped out from the Safety Box without a sound; apparently the hinges on the metal door were expertly-oiled and the Magician quite capable of sneaking around soundlessly.

"N-no," Regulus tried to correct the Magician, but he had already bustled out, grabbed some more supplies, and bustled back into the Safety Box.

At least Kibeth had quieted down. She seemed quite content, and Regulus watched her as she finished with her bottle and let it roll away from her, burping with contentment as she had before, when she'd finished the bananas. She really wasn't much different than the many fillies that had been born on the premises, especially considering nearly every pony that existed in the tower was gray. She would probably fit in perfectly; her coat barely showed any hue at all, she was just a silvery gray with a slightly darker mane and tail. And those bright red eyes, had he ever noticed them before? His mind started to wander back to when he'd had the Color Leech performed on him. He'd been several years old...

Before his mind could continue to wander, Indigaster popped his head out of the Safety Box. "It's ready in here."

Alile and Regulus looked at each other for a moment, as Alile brought Kibeth to her hooves and ushered her toward the box. She looked confused but, drowsy from the milk, stumbled forward acceptingly.

Regulus followed as they made to enter the room.

"Ah, only room for one of you in here," Indigaster shook his head slowly.

"I'll stay," Alile immediately blurted out. Before Regulus had a chance to argue, the large metal door was practically closed in his face. He reddened visibly, stymied as he was, but after a moment he decided it might be best. If the Magician had never performed this spell, if they were going to be in the Safety Box for it... maybe for his own throat it was best he simply stay in the study, far away from whatever was going to happen.

* * *

The room Alile was lead into was about the same size on the inside as it looked on the outside - surprising, he thought, because he assumed it would be well-insulated. Perhaps the insulation was all magical. There was a large, wide table in the very middle of the room, and only enough space on any side of the table for two ponies to stand side-by-side together... which was presently what he was doing as Indigaster pushed by him, turned, and helped him hoist Kibeth onto the table.

"Lie down, Kibeth," Alile ordered her. She sat, but only cocked her head curiously. Alile sighed, reached out, and placed her lying down on the table. She popped back up, let out a small bleat of resistance.

"Please?" he asked, his tone heavily pleading, as he reached out with his neck and muzzle to lightly push her down again. This time she stayed sitting, adjusting her legs to be underneath her so she was more comfortable.

Indigaster busied himself with the things he'd brought into the room, muttering quietly to himself as he did so. He shifted some items around, and located four hoof-sized cubes of some solid material; it resembled onyx but had sparkling gold veins criss-crossing it much like marble might. The cubes were rounded at the corners but otherwise perfect; he placed one at each corner of the table and carefully adjusted them so they were precisely lined up with the table's edges.

He then picked up a large, leather pouch, which he held to mouthed around until he was holding the bottom of it and flung the contents out across Kibeth. It was a fine, pearlescent powder, and even as the majority of it landed in Kibeth's fur and strewn through her mane, a good amount of it puffed into the air in a cloud. Alile drew in a breath to cry 'hey!' with and found himself gagging and coughing on it, which disturbed a bit of the powder sitting on Kibeth, who was patiently and calmly examining the small amount of it that had fallen at her hooves.

"Don't muss it up!" Indigaster scolded, "just hold your breath!"

He brought up another sack. This time Alile had the good sense to take a breath before the contents were tossed in the air, but this time a rain of small pebbles pelted Kibeth's hide. Her skin twitched as each of the tiny pebbles hit her - not enough to harm her but certainly surprising - and she whinnied and nearly stood up.

"Ah!" Alile pursed his lips as he stared her back down onto the table. When she had settled again, he examined the rocks that had been tossed. They were actually tiny pieces of some sort of metal, perhaps something like iron or steel, but rough little drops as though they'd been dropped from a small eyedropper and immediately into a pool of water.

Already Indigaster was pulling up other supplies, though it looked like he was reaching the end of them. He took a piece of black chalk and drew a line all around the table's edge, and then with a flutter's grace drew the same rectangle on the ceiling, directly above the lines he'd drawn on the table. Perhaps not perfectly, but closely enough that Alile had a hard time telling the difference. He wondered if Indigaster had done this particular thing before.

Then the Magician pulled out a small tub of salve. It was covered with a piece of thick fabric, like leather, which he stripped off to reveal a blueish, thick paste. It smelled like sweat and other body odors; not at all pleasant, especially in their small and not-well-ventilated confines of the Safety Box. Inside the tub was a tiny brush, which Indigaster took up carefully in his teeth. He reached his neck across the table and carefully brushed the paste on Kibeth's horn; she shrunk back from it for a moment.

"I know, it's cold, but it's all right," Indigaster soothed through his parted teeth as he continued to brush it on the horn, and then all around the base, across her forehead, for good measure. He plopped the brush back into the tub and closed it, laying it in a corner.

When he straightened back up again, he hadn't picked up any new objects. Alile breathed a soft sigh of relief.

"So now you just say a few words and it... pops off?" he ventured, sending a prayer to Am'hatai that it was the case in the process. Indigaster chuckled and shook out his mane, and Alile's heart fell.

"Not quite that easy, not that easy at all. The incantations will easily take an hour. I hope Regulus has the patience for this. Do you know if he's very patient? You married him, I assume you know one way or the other. Is he a very patient stal? Sure doesn't seem like it to me. Maybe you like it that way. Maybe you're the more patient one in the relationship..." Indigaster babbled.

"Uh, we're... we're not married," Alile stuttered, trying to correct the Magician. Then, as an afterthought, "He doesn't have much in the way of patience, though, no."

"So, are we ready?" Indigaster asked. Alile boggled a moment; how should he know?

"Um... yes?" he ventured.

"Excellent. Stand over there," Indigaster indicated a corner, "stay out of my way, I need to make my way around this table, and I need the room. But try to keep Kibeth from moving. She likes you. She'll listen to you. Okay, we're ready."

The Magician started with a deep breath in through his nostrils, and an exhale through his mouth. His dark black glasses fogged up with his breath. He stepped close to the table and placed a single hoof on one of the black cubes at the corner, seeming to feel it for a moment as though feeling for something. When his hoof finally rested there, solidly, he began to chant. Of course it was a spill of nonsense to Alile - _terula anola carota feluda gedola_, or something like that - but it made the fur on the back of his neck prick up. Maybe that was just because he was expecting the power... or maybe it was the power itself. The black cube began to glow a pale yellow color, like a sun's soft rays, but the glow seemed to stay within the cube's confines, not really emanating outward.

Indigaster did this for each cube, moving with strange fluidity around the room as he touched each, chanted, and moved on. Within ten minutes all four cubes were producing a light that equalled that of the few light fixtures in the Safety Box, making the room seem almost as bright as a day out in the desert.

"Shifu," Indigaster stated, loudly and abruptly, and suddenly all of the little pebbles of metal on the table began to glow the same pale yellow as the cubes. They started to rattle, as if the table were jittering beneath them, but it hadn't. Every particle of the pearlescent powder that had been sprinkled on Kibeth suddenly flew toward the metal pebbles, almost as if they were magnetized to them; even the specks in Kibeth's fur and mane were attracted, so she was quite suddenly clean of it.

The rattling pebbles had caused her a bit of alarm, though, and Alile leaned forward at this moment. He whispered a soft 'shhh, shhh,' noise and her worried eyes locked onto his. The salve on her forehead had begun to drip down her muzzle toward her nose, and her horn was throbbing with light, barely visible against that of the glowing cubes.

Indigaster muttered another long series of words and the pebbles slowly stopped rattling. He continued to talk, continuously, without stopping, for many minutes. The time ticked by, with Alile trying to keep his gaze, on Kibeth, from displaying any sort of worry. The filly looked frightened but he tried to smile comfortingly at her. He wanted to give her a soft pat on the head but he was certain this would be disruptive to the spell. He contented himself with just watching. At least she didn't seem likely to bolt at any moment; she just pulled in to herself, shrugging her shoulders up toward her head and pulling her legs in closer to her body.

The chanting shifted to a higher pitch, with halting syllables. Alile looked to Indigaster but the flutterpony was suddenly quite still. Not even his wings twitched; no single hair in his mane or tail fluttered or moved around his neck. Only his lips, forming the strange syllables with amazing precision. Alile couldn't see that it was having any effect until he noticed it: a tiny, white-hot line creeping along the charcoal line the Magician had drawn on the table. It started at one cube and crawled along, almost as though it were a living being, gnawing away at the charcoal dust, until it reached the next cube, where it rounded the corner and began making its way further around the rectangle. Indigaster kept up the chanting; there were slight pauses in his chant where an alert listener could hear him taking small breaths, but he continued unabated. The white-hot line crept up toward its tail end many minutes later, until finally the rectangle was whole.

It flashed a brilliant, blinding white, much brighter than the lighting spell Indigaster had cast before; Alile stumbled backward a moment, pushing into the wall behind him. He couldn't help but utter an 'ah!' and he heard Kibeth whinny at the same moment, but shortly the flash was gone, replaced by a bright square that haunted his vision but didn't entirely block it. He looked around it, through it, as it slowly dissipated, until he could see that the creeping light had shot upward and become a white-hot curtain around the table. It shimmered like a thin layer of water, but made of light. Kibeth was cowering behind it, her eyes squeezed shut, but she hadn't moved from the table, which was a blessing considering how Alile's heart was racing and how much he wanted to leap from the room, himself.

Indigaster suddenly drew in a deep breath. His chest started rapidly heaving as he gasped for air, and the quick intake caused him to cough involuntarily. He might have fallen over if he hadn't simply landed against the wall. Alile, frightened for a moment, moved quickly to his aid, but it was soon apparent he just needed to breathe. The Magician swatted his help away with his front hooves.

"Just give me a moment, give me a moment, the spell will be all right," he muttered. His tinted glasses had fallen half-off and one of his eyes, pure white and missing both pupil and iris, peeked over the top. Alile stepped back, half out of respect and half-startled. Indigaster adjusted his glasses quickly and shoved himself to his feet. He licked his lips, took a few more patient breaths.

"Now comes the hard part," he said; it seemed to be to himself, as he turned around and picked up a set of steel tongs from the ground. They had long arms, as if meant to pick up tubes filled with volatile liquid, but their gripping ends were flat rather than curved, and covered in tiny ridges to add to the gripping power. They almost looked like the sort of mechanism a dentist might use to pull out a particularly large and stubborn tooth.

He set them on the very edge of the table, inches from where the golden curtain hung. First, he faced Kibeth and whispered a single-syllable, magic word. Then he turned to where he had shooed Alile away, though the stallion had moved a foot or so down the table from that particular position.

"What does it look like? Rectangular curtain of light, glowing cubes, all of that stuff? Is the salve on her forehead glowing, as well?"

Alile swallowed nervously; it was so strange having a blind Magician address him and ask what the spell he'd cast had done. It was not very reassuring. As Alile approached the table, though, he did notice Kibeth's forehead was glowing where the cream had been applied. It was hard to tell if it was simply her horn, beneath, or if it actually was the paste, but he saw the filly wriggling on the table. She was whimpering quietly, and for a moment it looked like she was going to turn her head and rub her horn on the table.

"No, don't do that!" Alile shouted, and Kibeth stopped, one red eye popping open to look at him. Her eye was actually glowing, and Alile nearly choked.

"Don't do what? What are you talking about?" Indigaster tried to ask in a calming tone, knowing panicking wouldn't do either of them any good.

"She was going to rub her horn on something, maybe rub the... the stuff off," Alile had a distinct lack of words coming to mind.

"Ah, yes, that would be unfortunate. I suppose I can understand; she's likely becoming quite uncomfortable as the horn separates from her skull..." Indigaster trailed off as he picked up the specialized tongs in his mouth again, clearly determined to get the spell over with as soon as possible.

Carefully, he slid the tongs through the curtain; it didn't part the way a waterfall might, it simply enveloped the outstretched arms of the utensil and continued to flow unobstructed. Indigaster let a bit of breath out through his teeth, as if he'd been expecting something terrible to happen.

"Where's her horn?" he then asked. Alile allowed himself a momentary shudder.

"Down... yes, that's right, a little to your right- I mean, your left. Down a little more. You've almost got it. Yes, that's it-" Alile was interrupted as Kibeth jerked a bit and whimpered pitifully. His heart caught in his throat and he suddenly hoped they weren't doing something wrong. But they were so close...

"She's moved, just to your left and up a bit." Indigaster moved his head accordingly, and soon felt the utensils trying to pull from his mouth as they pressed against something; he also heard, with his keen ears, the rasp of the texture on their grasping plates running along the hard, nail-like surface of the horn. Quickly he clamped the tongs down.

"May Am'hatai's eyes watch over us," Alile breathed.

Indigaster gave the horn a good, quick tug.

Things happened quickly. There was a sick sucking noise like a wet suction cup letting loose from a window... or flesh releasing from bone. Indigaster half-fell backward, having tugged harder than he'd needed to, but his fall was facilitated by the sudden blast of energy that surged through the room.

As Kibeth's horn parted from her tiny forehead, the gap was filled by a sudden, bright red energy, like a thin lightning bolt, crackling at the base of the horn and showing, for a moment, as though fighting against the removal. It was only for a moment, like most magic seemed to be; then, in the blink of an eye, it had flung itself outward in all directions, like an explosion. Energy ripped across Kibeth's body, curling across her flesh and burning and instantly cauterizing it. Her forehead, her sides, even one of her front and back legs, almost no part of her body escaped the red lightning as it seemed to feed on her fur and pained, almost breathless scream.

Then, it flung off her body, as though trying desperately to leap to one of the other two ponies in the room. Alile saw it, like a raging dragon come to claim his heart straight from his chest. It hit a barrier... the light wall. It bounced frantically from one side to the other, bouncing off Kibeth's body a couple more times in the process, before one more solid ricochet brought it in explosive contact with the golden curtain.

All four black cubes were thrown back against the walls, as were Alile and Indigaster's bodies. The explosion broke all of the lights in the room, putting them in sudden, pitch black. The pebbles of iron scattered across the room, shooting like tiny bullets; one imbedded itself in Alile's shoulder, another glanced off his jaw. He heard Indigaster shout and knew the Magician had been hit, as well. The smell of burning clouded the room in suffocating amounts and suddenly all Alile could think of was escape. Even though the magic had clearly burnt itself out, he scrambled to where he knew the door was and slammed into it. Where was the bolt? Finally, he found it, slipped off it once, and then managed to shove enough weight into it - his shoulder felt as though it were on fire in that instant - until it gave way and opened violently outward, dropping his ash-blackened body onto the Magician's study's carpet.

Regulus had leapt up the moment he'd heard the explosion in the Safety Room, and startled backward when Alile's body fell out of the door.

"What happened...?" Alile asked, blearily, as though Regulus were the one to ask such a question of. The stallion was speechless. He hurried into the dark Safety Box and found Indigaster at the back of the room. Even in the dim light coming in from the study, Regulus could see several puncture wounds riddling the Magician's body. It was still warm, but lifeless; there was no pulse. Regulus' eyes went wide and he sat there a moment, stunned.

"Kibeth...?" Alile weakly called from outside. Regulus could hear the stallion's rasping breath; he was probably too hurt to get up on.

He stood to examine Kibeth, who was also lying still, her blackened body sprawled across the table. The black coloring was mostly ash, but Regulus also saw she was burnt in several places, most prominently on her forehead, where a horn no longer shone in any capacity. Regulus was about to tell Alile the filly was dead when her side heaved up and she coughed; a tiny, weak noise that blew ash off the table.

"She's alive..." Regulus breathed, too stunned to say anything else.


	16. Chapter 16 - The Aftermath

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Sixteen - The Aftermath_

Over a week passed before Alile opened his eyes and beheld the world with clarity. He was alone in his own room; sparsely furnished, but a mirror across from his bed showed his scruffy face and hair peeking curiously up in its shiny surface, probably thanks to his being propped up with a sampling of pillows. He looked down at himself and noted a lack of burnt skin. This was odd, because he smelled burnt flesh, a whiff, almost a memory. He shuddered, flinched, and then groaned from an ache in his side. He noticed the bandages, and felt the thick bandage applied with a glue-paste to his jaw. He tried to remember where these wounds had come from, but his head felt full of dead weight.

After reorienting himself, and making sure he could stand on his own, Alile donned a cape and immediately headed for the most important place he could think of: the cafeteria. He felt as though he hadn't eaten in days, and considered it might be possible; in his previous experience, once the nurses were certain you were stabilized and could rest without supervision, they tended to simply leave you without supervision to fend for yourself. They had plenty of things to be doing, despite the enclosed nature of the city-castle. He let his nose lead him to the buffet; he was just in time for breakfast, and he could smell some delicious honeywheat waffles that seemed to invade his every sense. Within a blink he was sitting at the tables, already devouring the last bits of the stack of four waffles he'd grabbed for himself. Ponies around him were beginning to stare.

Then, as though his stomach's enjoyment of the sustenance sent immediate notice to his brain to unlock the vault, suddenly Alile could clearly remember at least several important parts of what had happened to him before he'd awakened. He immediately stood up and uttered a completely involuntary shout; suddenly, every pony in the dining hall was staring, but he was already leaving, headed up the massive flights of stairs that awaited him.

* * *

Regulus' room was far above the majority; he resided in more specialized quarters with a more luxurious floorplan. This meant a long trip up the stairs, and Alile was wheezing after climbing only half the height. He stopped for a quick break at a small stairwell, thinking about the moments of shattered memory he had with every intake of rasping, needy breath. He needed to talk to someone - he glanced as a random pony here or there passed him, paying him only the barest of glances, but they wouldn't do - and the only pony he could guarantee would know what he was talking about was Regulus. Surely that pony, if any, had answers.

Spurred by thoughts of the Magician's dead body, the ash-covered hide of the filly he'd protected, he sprinted up the final sets of stairs, using his wings to propel him as quickly as safety would allow. Regulus must have heard him coming, for the door was open and he was standing in the door frame when Alile approached.

"What-" Alile choked out through heavy breaths.

"Come inside," Regulus barked.

Alile was just as happy to get a place to sit, and obediently entered the officer's room. Awaiting him were no less than three comfortably fluffy chairs; he chose the one closest to the door and looked around the rest of Regulus' room, which he'd only been in once before. It resembled the other officers' quarters in size and shape, but Regulus had especially picked some fine fabrics for his furniture, and had a larger bed specially installed by the castle's artisans. A bookcase sat to the side of the bed, filled with all manner of books and knick-knacks. There almost seemed to be more bookends than books. Alile shook his head and turned to face Regulus as the stallion sat across the room, in the chair at his modest wooden desk.

"You missed the wizard's funeral," Regulus began, sneering.

"So... he died?" Alile swallowed a bit. He'd been uncertain about exactly what had happened, but that confirmed it.

"And the filly?" he asked quickly.

"Still sleeping it off, but she's alive. She got it worse than you did. She's been entirely bandaged from head to hoof this entire past week. They're saying she should recover, though," Regulus heaved a sigh, but Alile visibly brightened. Then, darkened again.

"We had no business doing that spell, Regulus," his voice came out in an unintentional growl, but once it was uttered, he felt convicted to carry it out. "It could have killed all of us."

"How was I to know?" Regulus' voice was instantly shrill with sudden defensiveness. He'd remained unscathed and had the entire week to think about everything that had gone wrong. What was worse, the horn had never been recovered. He'd done it all for nothing. He praised Am'hatai that the glowing being had not come back for him yet; indeed, the grilling he'd received from The Seven had been enough to make him wish that glowing beast had simply killed him at their first meeting. But he'd admitted very little to the Seven... all he'd needed to remain intact and little more. The less attention the situation got, the better.

"You were there... we asked Indigaster for a spell that would be safe, and he immediately said he'd be willing to do that one. If there was a danger, he certainly didn't say anything to us. How could I have stopped him?"

"I guess that's true..." Alile heaved a sigh, "I'm sorry, that was unfair of me."

"Can I see Kibeth?" he asked, partly hoping to change to a different subject.

Regulus shook his head, "The nurses have said she needs plenty more rest, and seeing visitors could risk infection."

"What does Dream Keeper have to say about all of this?" Alile asked, suddenly remembering. Regulus visibly flinched. That particular mare had been almost at the forefront of the Seven's tirade, he supposed for good reason.

"She's not very happy, but all she and the Seven know is that Kibeth had an illness we wanted the Magician to cure. Neither of us will receive punishment for this, though," he tried to reassure the other stallion, "and Dream Keeper has still promised to place your filly in classes."

"My filly...?" Alile asked, incredulously, probing Regulus to correct his mistake.

"Yes, YOUR filly. It was decided you would be taking care of her," Regulus smirked.

"I'm sure not without your help!" Alile leapt to his hooves shouting; he felt the punishment for having stood so quickly in his wobbly legs and immediately crumpled into his chair again, already vanquished and unwilling to fight against the decision. As though he didn't have enough on his mind already, thoughts of his future taking care of Kibeth began to run through his head. His eyes glazed over and Regulus watched for a moment before snorting and waving a hoof in front of Alile's face.

"I, uh... I have to get going," Alile stuttered as he snapped out of the reverie. He collected himself and, this time, very carefully brought himself to his feet. After bowing appreciatively to Regulus, he readied himself for the trip back down the flights of stairs back to his quarters. He already felt like he could sleep for another week.

* * *

In fact, Alile need not have worried about Kibeth... Dream Keeper had been following the filly's progress closely. When Regulus had first called for help that night a week ago, she had personally requested to inspect the issue for the Seven. She was horrified to find, when she came across it, that the commotion very closely involved her. She had wasted no time in organizing her schedule for the next several months to accommodate the issues.

First was the funeral for the Magician. In fact, it turned out Indigaster had been a hermit of a pony; very few in Zith-lynd could truthfully claim they knew anything definitive about him. He was an eccentric pony at best. However, he had been training an apprentice in his studies, and it was with much apprehension that the title of head Magician was handed over to Foggie. The pony had two more eyes than Indigaster, but seemed to have a lot less sense (if that could be believed). Still, he was hoof-chosen by the Magician, so no one questioned it. The funeral, otherwise, had been a very vanilla affair... it was the cremation that had caused a bit of a commotion. It seemed the Magician had had one last laugh stored inside him, for when he was lit, he immediately began to emit fireworks. The attendant in charge of the crematorium that day was so startled she simply leapt out of the room and ran away; the fireworks began to escape and singed quite a few parts of the building. Thankfully they'd been contained and the mess and damage cleaned and restored.

She kept close tabs on Regulus during this time, but the pony no longer seemed to be acting strangely. Whatever had happened involving Kibeth, it had been completed to his satisfaction, apparently. Alile had been no help, still incapacitated and in and out of hazy, pain-numbed sleep with little-to-no input beyond being hungry or thirsty. She was thankful he was still alive, but desperately yearned for more answers that otherwise were not forthcoming.

The filly had done little more than lapse in and out of sleep, as well. She'd been thickly bandaged and covered with a burn-healing salve, and had been tended to by the castle's best healers... there was no more they could do. Each day she regained a bit more color, breathed a bit more deeply and easily, and awakened more often, but only time would tell if she had made it through the ordeal mentally and would continue to flourish. Dream Keeper visited her as often as the nurses would allow, spending ten minutes here and there in her schedule to simply gaze at the filly and ponder its future.

Her other obligations were beginning to suffer from her attention to this pressing matter. She had already missed critiquing several classes and would have to explain herself to one of the Seven eventually. She dreaded the conversation because she still felt she had too little information about the incident to be explaining it in detail to them. Her mind started to wander to the notebook she had clutched between her teeth, the fifteenth page of which was riddled with her notes about this incident... but she shook her head and snapped out of it. If she kept daydreaming, she'd be late for the class on astronomy; she kicked her heels up and spurred herself forward at a faster pace.

* * *

The astronomy class went off without a hitch, despite failing to entertain Dream Keeper in the least. She noticed as she arrived that the professor had written the names of the constellations they would be studying on the board, and they were all first-year constellations, the more simple and essential ones that were brow-beaten into every little pony at the beginning of their studies. Her schooling had ended many seasons previously, but she still recalled these constellations with clarity, partly an indication of how well the professor did. As his students began shuffling in and taking seats, the professor - a rather large flutter in a deep gray shade, painted with white splotches, and with flashy lemon-yellow shocks of mane - eyed Dream Keeper warily but hastily launched in to his lesson. Time seemed not to pass, as Dream's eyes swept the students and marked them up on attendance, attention, and participation, but she finished with the evaluations in exactly the right amount of time; her last mark on her sheet somehow signalled the professor to open the door and usher his students out. There were no bells for certain hours of classes in Zith-lynd; the classes did not stick to strict hours and were allowed to run as long or short as the professor felt was needed.

"Myshna, good Professor Fall," Dream offered as she stood and made to exit his classroom.

"Myshna and greetings... I didn't expect you in today's class," Fall pursed his lips, expecting an answer. Dream Keeper peered at him and then let her weary brain process it...

"Oh, dear Am'hatai, I was supposed to be attending your evening class tomorrow, wasn't I," Dream Keeper blushed deeply, turning her head to look away from him and instead carefully observe the patterns in the marble at her hooves, "You'll have to excuse me, I've been a little scatter-brained this past week..."

"Yes, I know," Fall cut her off, "there has been talk about it. Is all well?"

"Oh, yes, of course, I'm fine," Dream nodded with forced enthusiasm, "Not sick at all, I promise."

Fall didn't seem entirely convinced, but could tell the subject would probably not get much further discussion, so he dropped it. For this, Dream was glad... she didn't like directly ordering ponies not to inquire into her business, especially such delicate business as this.

"Maybe a walk in the garden would do you some good?" Fall offered as he closed the door to his classroom and began to walk toward the main hall. Dream Keeper stepped up alongside him and kept up with him, despite his large and lengthy hooffalls.

"A walk in the garden, yes..." Dream Keeper trailed off as she became lost in thought... but almost immediately snapped back.

"Fall, do you have an opening in your beginning astronomy courses?"

"I'm not sure," he pondered, staring at the ceiling a moment, "but I would be happy to check for you, m'lady."

"Please do; we are expecting a new arrival soon and I would like for her classes to be sorted out when she is ready for them."

"Yes, m'lady," Fall nodded solemnly, "Now I must be off... the cafeteria is calling. Do have a good day, Am'hatai's blessings be upon you. Myshna!" He flicked his tail at her congenially before departing down the long hallway. Dream Keeper watched him go for a moment before turning in the direction of the entrance to the gardens.

"Maybe a little fresh air WOULD do me some good..." she thought.

* * *

It was getting to be mid-afternoon when Dream Keeper approached the gates at the back end of Zith-lynd, the ones that would lead her outside. Ponies of Zith-lynd very rarely ventured out of the tower; it was usually desperately hot, humid, and unpleasant outside the tower, and any pony hoping to get a little sun could always visit the greenhouses on higher floors, or even simply bask in the sunlight entering their room, as most rooms were granted at least one window. As such, it had actually been a fight with the Seven several times to cut off funding to the garden... the greenhouses provided the majority of the sustenance for the towers, with only a few plots of the garden being set aside for food while the rest of the land was used to cultivate as many flowers as could possibly grow in the harsh climate. It seemed frivolous, but year after year, the garden continued to be funded. No doubt this was due in part to the fierce love of its caretaker, Mistblossom.

Mistblossom was a member of the Gray Council, much like Dream Keeper herself. This meant she was offered the utmost respect, along with an appropriately-sized and decorated lodging, a weekly stipend, full access to the entire kitchen and pantry, and permission to come and go from Zith-lynd as she pleased, among other things. Mistblossom, however, chose to accept very little of this offer... she had never left Zith-lynd in the time Dream Keeper had known her, had not a penny to her name, was rarely seen eating, and had even refused the lodging, choosing instead to stay in a smaller room in the maids' quarters (Dream Keeper actually partly envied this last choice; officer's quarters were much higher up in the tower than the maids', and therefore not only became hotter during the day, but also offered quite the distance of stair-stepping to get down to the more-used levels of Zith-lynd). Mistblossom was more questions than answers to most ponies of the tower.

Dream Keeper was thus rightfully surprised when she nearly bowled over Mistblossom while pushing open one of the garden gates. The doors were some of the few in the tower to feature stained glass renderings, and as Dream Keeper set her hoof on the metal plate that served as the back of the door handle and swung the door out into the sunlight, she was paying too much attention to the tiny art in one of the stained glass panels, which depicted a shadowy form not unlike a dragon devouring a frightened-looking unicorn pony; she was completely oblivious to Mistblossom attempting to enter from the other side until the other flutter let out a surprised "Oh!" and came muzzle-to-muzzle with Dream.

"Oh, Myshna, excuse me," Dream Keeper stuttered, backing up so she could get a good look at the other. Mistblossom hung back from the doorway, her shy eyes trained on a nearby clump of flowers; this was barely visible behind the long, wavy mane that slid, almost like pale, rose-colored water, down over her face, parting only to allow her muzzle to stick out, and quickly coming back together to shower the rest of her fore before dripping down to the dusty ground. Dream had never seen Mistblossom with her hair completely undone; usually the mare wore it pulled up in a series of buns or braids, much like her tail currently was.

"No, no, it was... my fault. I... I'm afraid I'm... having some trouble... seeing," Mistblossom practically whispered, her voice faltering before she remembered her manners.

"Mysha and greetings, fellow Councilmember, can I help you...?"

"I do believe a better question is whether I may help you with your mane," Dream responded, carefully, hoping not to offend.

"Oh, could you...?" Mistblossom asked, sounding a mix of sheepish and reluctant to impose.

"Yes, of course, I believe I have the time." Really, Dream Keeper didn't... but her usual, schedule-strict self seemed to be on vacation, and she felt a bit exasperated; if she'd already missed important classes, gone to the wrong class this morning, and her trip to the garden would make her late for lunch... what harm could helping a fellow Councilmember really do to her schedule that she hadn't done, herself, already...?

Carefully shutting the gate behind her, Dream ushered Mistblossom toward the nearest bench. The garden was painstakingly cobbled with fine crystal quartz stones, rough-hewn to give traction but no less spectacular for it, dotted with the tiny mirrors of flat surfaces created by fractures. The benches were made of marble similar to that used on the floor of Zith-lynd's first level. They had clearly been chiseled by the tower's master artisans... unlike the statuary which dotted the garden, which had been created by class members and apprentices. Here and there throughout the clumps of flowers were statues of ponies and wild animals, and even a statue devoted to the Goddess Am'hatai herself; abstract as it was, the metal 'stars' that dangled from the statue-mobile did an acceptable job of imitating Am'hatai's eyes in the night sky, and additionally provided the pleasant tinkling of a wind chime.

And, of course, all around were flowers upon flowers upon flowers. Bluebells peeked up in circles around hibiscus bushes, daffodils shyly turned away from rose's thorns, daisies and violets smiled at one another with hydrangea blossoms watching from above. Snapdragons, lillies, jasmine, buttercups, posies, all painstakingly arranged to accentuate the landscape and encircle the few great, flowering trees that provided the garden with its few shaded areas. The quartz path wound sinuously through it all, as though taking the absolute longest path it could to get through the area and back to the entrance.

Of course, here and there along the path were the few patches of earth still keeping the rest of the oasis funded and alive: here, a slightly shaded spot devoted to growing herbs for the healers; there, a few long lines of what must have been deeply-cultivated earth, growing a scattering of tubers and roots. These sorts of concessions seemed less enthusiastically planted but were the reason the Seven allowed Mistblossom her hold over the area. That was due in part to her magic.

"Allow me," Dream said as she sat on the bench alongside Mistblossom, then turned to face the mostly-faceless pony and began to remove the strands of hair from her eyes with her teeth. Mistblossom wordlessly offered Dream Keeper a few hair bands, stretchy things that required no tying, only a bit of deft hoof and mouth maneuvering, and once the other flutterpony had gathered the hair behind Mistblossom's head, she carefully but studiously pulled a sloppy bun together.

"Oh, my... I am rubbish at this, I am sorry," Dream Keeper muttered in embarrassment as she viewed the barely-passable hair-do.

"No, it's fine, it's keeping the hair out of my eyes at least, I can just have the hairdresser re-do it later," Mistblossom said in her usual whisper of a voice as she turned to face Dream, her face now revealed as a cheery-looking one. She smiled pleasantly to Dream, almost as proof that she was perfectly happy with the result. Dream looked visibly relieved, but lifted herself off the bench with the other mare.

She took a deep breath of the fresh, only-moderately-warm air, and turned to face Mistblossom again.

"How do you do it? Keep the garden the way it is, I mean," Dream asked the other mare abruptly.

"Oh, um..." Mistblossom looked away and her form visibly shrank; the cheer on her face was replaced by a look that was hard to discern... worry, or embarrassment? Dream was uncertain, but stayed silent to offer Mistblossom the floor if she would like to explain.

"Well... I... I'm able to hold up a shield, you see," and the mare motioned into the sky; there was nothing there, and Dream gave her an incredulous look, "Well, maybe you can't see, b-but... it keeps things... growing. Whatever I plant, it grows. I-it just does, I-i'm not quite sure how, please don't ask," and Mistblossom seemed to almost flinch at the end of her sentence. Dream felt a bit mollified and decided to drop the subject as gracefully as possible.

"You keep a beautiful garden, I was just curious..." this seemed to be enough; Mistblossom immediately brightened again, her wings fluttering excitedly.

"Would you like me to show you the apple tree? It has the most wonderful blossoms right now. There might even be an extra apple or two on it, I'm not sure if the cooks gathered them all," and with this she winked and nudged at Dream with a hoof. The other mare laughed and shook her head.

"No, I really must be going. I have things to attend to, I just needed a little... refreshment," as if to illustrate, she took another deep breath of the sweet air and tried hard not to swoon from the perfume of flowers in bloom and delicious fruit ready for plucking.

"Oh, oh, you should try this," Mistblossom giggled and hurried to the herb patch, where she plucked a few leaves of peppermint. She passed them to Dream, "they should be pretty refreshing!"

Dream Keeper thanked her and immediately headed back for the brightly-shining stained-glass double-doors. Looking at the sheer face of one of Zith-lynd's walls quickly layered on the blanket of duty that kept her grounded through the day, and as she passed through the doors, she took one last glance back as they were shutting. Mistblossom was smiling and humming to herself in the picturesque backdrop of the garden, and Dream could smell the delicious air again. One day, she thought, maybe she could move away from Zith-lynd, to somewhere... else. Somewhere with lots of flowers.


	17. Chapter 17 - The Recovery

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Seventeen - The Recovery_

Alile began to take over watch for Dream Keeper as Kibeth continued to recover. It was another week after Alile's awakening that Kibeth had finally recovered enough to allow her to get up and move around. "Weew!" was now a favorite saying of hers when Alile entered the room; he chuckled as she greeted him this time, her bright eyes twinkling brighter. She clapped her hooves together and giggled, then waved at him expectantly. He faked surprise and scoffed, "You're asking for presents rather than waiting for me to give them to you, now?" She just looked at him even more expectantly, with the determination of a pony who was clearly willing to be patient.

"Haha, all right," he chuckled. From underneath his lengthy cape he pulled a small sack. Hoofing it over to Kibeth, he was admittedly delighted to watch her peer into it, then look up at him gratefully as she pulled out a peeled orange. She didn't spare the sack a second look; she immediately began to dig into the orange.

"Hey, h-hey! There's more in there, you know," he laughed, and poked at the bag again. Kibeth looked between the orange she'd acquired and the bag he was poking, and quickly went back to scarfing down the orange. Alile just rolled his eyes, and waited until she was finished.

"Ready, now?" He asked her. She nodded spastically and tugged the bag open again. When she saw what was inside, she overturned it; out tumbled a hair barrette, and a small stuffed raccoon. Alile felt a little embarrassed as she looked up at him quizzically; he wasn't the best at choosing exactly what sort of things a little girl might like and just wanted to surprise her.

"Here, this goes like this," he picked the barrette up in his teeth and carefully attempted to pin up some of Kibeth's short mane. It didn't do much for her appearance, nor to hold her mane out of her eyes, but the barrette was a pale blue decorated with a large, sparkling flower, and it was this Kibeth's eyes focused on. She clapped her hooves together gleefully and grinned up at Alile, then pointed at the raccoon stuffed animal curiously.

"Yes, that's yours, too. He's stuffed," and Alile pushed one hoof carefully down on the raccoon to show it was soft and gave in quickly at his touch; Kibeth noticed it also looked fuzzy, and carefully pulled it toward her. She examined it closely, sniffing at its various parts, and then quickly brought it up into her forelegs and snuggled it close. Alile smiled, then sighed slightly. Immediately, Kibeth peered up at him as if to ask what was the matter, and Alile was stunned at her ease at understanding his body language. She barely knew him... didn't she...?

"It's almost time for you to come out of here, and start going to classes. I can't watch you myself; I actually have things to do around the tower. I wish I could... I hope you'll be all right. I'm sure you will, I don't know why I worry so much. Or why I'm talking to a filly who probably can't understand half of what I'm talking about..." he trailed off as a nursemaid entered the room and stopped mid-duties to give him an alien look. She seemed satisfied that he understood the apparent level of craziness he was exuding and went back to restocking the medical drawers with bandages.

"Weew!" Kibeth responded decisively. Then, she went back to playing with her raccoon. Alile pursed his lips, and tried not to let his mind wander too far into the future. Now was the most important time; whatever was happening now was more important than what would happen when Kibeth entered her classes.

"It's time for a bandage change," a nurse interrupted gruffly, pushing up alongside Alile with little attention to his space. Alile hastily scrambled aside, and quickly debated whether he wanted to leave the room. He hadn't seen Kibeth's wounds closely since the day of the incident, and he almost wished he would never have to. He knew that wasn't an option, and as Kibeth looked happily preoccupied he figured today was as good a day as any. Still, he stood a bit back... not because he was squeamish, just to give the nurse space, he reassured himself.

The nurse used a tool to carefully pick out the edge of the bandage and begin to unwind it from around the filly. It seemed like a slow process, but it also seemed that she had it completed in no time... for one of the bandages. Kibeth was covered in several, and the nurse dutifully moved on to the next. As piece by soiled piece were removed and thrown away, Alile was able to begin to see the damage that had been done. All along Kibeth's side, puckered, angry-looking flesh gave way to open sores where skin had already sloughed off. Everything was ringed in varying shades of pink and red, bright colors one usually didn't see on the hides of ponies in Zith-lynd. Still, the wound seemed relatively clean and it was clear new skin was already beginning to creep over the trails of crimson that had made odd worm-lines on the filly. It was an inexplicable burn; it would be impossible for her to explain it in later years of her life. Suddenly Alile began to panic about what he would tell her.

"Y'all right?" the nurse suddenly shattered his thoughts; he turned and noticed she was peering at him inquisitively, "Not gonna get sick, are ya?" Alile quickly shook his head. Maybe, though, it was time he left the nurse to her duties. Kibeth peered up at him, taking a momentary break from chewing on the stuffed raccoon.

"I'll be back later today," Alile reassured her. She didn't seem to understand exactly what he said but she seemed comforted. He took one last look over his shoulder before leaving, and committed it to memory. It felt like things could only get harder and worse from here.

* * *

The next few weeks saw Kibeth on her road to recovery, and by the time she was finally able to be released from the infirmary ward, she was able to happily babble at Alile when he came to pick her up. She was still bandaged - and Alile did not look forward to having to try to change the bandages himself from now on - but she was walking and talking and looked excited to finally be able to leave the room she'd mostly been confined to for so long.

"Weew! Weew, up! Up, Weew!" Kibeth gurgled, fluttering her wings gently and giving Alile her most precious, begging look.

"All right, fine, but only down the stairs; after that, you're on your own again... you really need to exercise, you've been bedridden too long." Alile bent his front knees and knelt before Kibeth, who scrambled haphazardly onto his back and took a seat between his wings. She partially wrapped her forelegs around his neck and nuzzled into it.

"Now, I know it's going to be hard for you to understand this," Alile began as he started to trot down the long hallway that led from the infirmary doors to the downward-traveling staircase, "but you need to start learning about procedure in Zith-lynd. It's important."

"Siffwind," Kibeth replied; she was clearly at the stage where she enjoyed mimicking adults.

"Er, right," Alile continued as he began to work his way down the flights of stairs. "So, usually the Dawnbell will signal the beginning of the day; some ponies will wake to greet the dawn, but it's easy to sleep through the bell quite honestly, and you probably won't be waking up that early, so you will need to either acquire an alarm, or we will need to find you a Waking Partner who wakes at the Dawnbell and will be able to wake you at your specified time."

"Are you listening?" Alile asked, and peered back over his shoulder. The filly stared at him inquisitively but clearly understood little of what he'd said.

_This is impossible. She can't be on her own in the tower yet. But I have duties_... His mind searched for an answer to the conundrum when suddenly it dawned on him... Sterling Flame!

He quickened his pace down the stairs they were on, practically scrabbling on their surfaces to propel himself.

Shortly, he arrived at the door of a room on the maidservants' floor. Giving it a quick rap of his hoof, he was almost immediately greeted by an irritated-looking, light gray mare, her multi-colored, fire-red and crimson mane pulled off to the side of her neck and held there with a large blue bow.

"Help you?" She asked, sounding a bit guarded.

"Um, yes, Sterling? I... I don't know if you know, but I recently acquired this, uh," he struggled for wording, "apprentice. She's very young, and she just can't be left alone, on her own. I thought I heard that you ran a daycare of sorts-"

"No day care." She slammed the door in his face, pointedly. He felt the rush of air as it slapped his pride. Coughing and clearing his throat, he tried again with his best, most humble look on. Another rap on the door somehow still immediately brought Sterling's answer.

"Can't help you," she said gruffly, and made to close the door again. Alile stuck his hoof in the crack before she could.

"Please, I really need your help. She needs close attention to her wounds, and I haven't been to my post in days; they'll discharge me if I don't show up today."

Sterling's eyes scanned the pleading stallion's face, but she still exuded an aura of reproach. The door closed again, slowly this time. Alile's face fell and he could feel his heart swimming in his stomach acid. She was his last chance and he had no further ideas. He didn't want to have to go to Regulus or Dream Keeper and ask them to help; she was his to take care of. Well, when he could.

Suddenly, the door flung open - inwardly - and Sterling Flame once again came into view, this time baring the whole of her room as well. Inside was spacious, for a maidservant-floor room; Alile could tell there was more to the left, beyond the door, that he could not see, but in front of him there was already a small half-kitchen and dining area, carefully arranged to conserve space but make as much room for people as possible. As Alile stepped forward, he slid Kibeth off his back to stand on the ground. She seemed disappointed but accepted it. Sterling closed the door behind them and the rest of her room came into view.

Her bed was triangular and occupied a tidy corner of the room. The rest of the area was devoted mostly to a large table, around which were seated three other flutterpony foals. They all seemed to be doing crafts or playing with toys, and closer inspection revealed a row of bins near the table filled with all manner of foal's playthings. Kibeth was immediately interested and wandered over to inspect them. Alile's eyes only followed her a short moment before they fell on the other foals at the table.

They were colorful. There was a smallish red colt with mustard-yellow mane hanging in his eyes and large freckles dotting his muzzle. There was an aquamarine filly with the palest pink hair he had ever seen, and another, larger filly was a midnight blue with shocks of bright sanguine mane pulled out in pigtails. The two fillies seemed to be enjoying a foal's tea party while the colt quietly read a book. All-in-all they were very well-behaved, and the smaller filly even looked to be around Kibeth's age. He turned to smile thankfully at Sterling.

"Don't thank; one day. We'll see," she glared at him. She clearly seemed upset. Then he realized, she was periodically glancing at Kibeth's bandages. Maybe she had already heard about Kibeth, and the incident surrounding her. It was bound to get around the tower eventually, as much as ponies tried to prevent it. Sterling Flame seemed like a very no-nonsense pony, she likely didn't want the drama associated with taking care of a filly so invovled in such things. He felt that much more grateful that she was making the exception, and he was certain Kibeth wouldn't disappoint her. He hoped. He prayed to Am'hatai, for good measure.

"Kibeth," he said, approaching her just as she was starting to reach into one of the toy-filled bins and select a pony-dolly. She turned to look at him, and her eyes begged him as if to say, please don't say I have to go. He chuckled. "You'll be staying here a while, I'll be back to check on you and pick you up later. Be good for the kind mare. Please."

Kibeth turned away and immediately rummaged out the doll and took her over to the table, where she began to burble and coo at it. Feeling a little awkward, Alile stood from where he'd kneeled to address her, and headed for the door.

"One day, we'll see." Sterling said, again, as he passed through the threshold and she immediately closed the door, missing his rump by mere inches. He started forward a step or two and snorted. He hoped that attitude didn't rub off on Kibeth.

* * *

Dream Keeper hadn't seen him in a while. In retrospect, she'd buried herself rather deeply in her work and had purposefully made herself ignore the issue. Now, he was in her face... literally.

"M-myshna, and greetings, Alile," Dream heaved the breath out from her sprawled place on the floor. She slowly clambered up onto her hooves and shook her mane out; her hood had fallen off in the collision. She peered down at Alile's similarly-sprawled form, arching her neck daintily, "Did you need some help, to get up?"

"Uh, n-no, thank you," he stuttered, finally regaining his composure after the embarrassment of running directly into the Gray Council member at full-speed. His muzzle still tingled numbly from where he'd run face-first into the breadth of her chest. When he stood, his cape became trapped between his legs and tripped him up; he just managed to catch himself from falling completely over again. Sheepishly, with a red face, he looked at Dream Keeper's hooves.

"I'm sorry," he finally breathed.

"Quite all right, but I should like to know where the fire has broken out so I might avoid it, and send the brigade." She said this with a flat tone and completely serious mask. Alile was too flustered to notice the joke.

"Kibeth's getting out of her first class," he muttered.

"What was that?" she asked, knowing exactly what he'd said but interested in his being more assertive.

"It's the end of Kibeth's first class, I want to see how she did... if she made it through all right. With... all of the other kids," he said, facing her this time, "... Councilmember."

"I would actually like to find this out, as well, being that I had scheduled her for this course," she smiled slightly, looking out from under half-lids wryly. She sidled up alongside him and then began to strut down the hallway. She'd previously been headed in the other direction - to the gardens, she'd made it more of a daily habit - but this was more important.

As they walked down the halls, they were silent. It was a little uncomfortable, and Dream searched for conversation to spark up. She hadn't spoken with the stallion much before the incident, and not much recently either. All she could think of was the filly they were both coming to visit.

"How have her wounds been healing up?" She broached, trying to do so delicately.

"Oh, they've been all right," Alile nodded happily, "It's not perfect, they're still visible, but they look old now. She tells me she still gets stares now and then... I guess it can't be helped," he rolled his shoulders in a shrug. Dream bit her lower lip a moment, but came up with no solutions immediately.

"Has she made any friends?"

"Oh, a few. She's been late for curfew once, thanks to that," he muttered. Dream tried to hide her smile; it was clear Alile had become more of a father figure to her than he'd meant to.

"Has she been tested for magic yet?"

"Yes," Alile nodded the affirmative, "she's apt, she just doesn't seem interested. None of the magic classes you suggested seemed to appeal to her."

"Oh, I'm sure it's fine. She'll find her way eventually," Dream offered, from her experience.

"Oh, we're here!"

They approached the classroom where, months before, Dream had sat in on the wrong lesson. The astronomy professor seemed to be just finishing up his lecture; Dream peered through the door and noted the students were already closing their books and some twitching with eagerness to run out the door. She couldn't see Kibeth, but her field of vision from the tiny viewing window was small.

Shortly after she backed away, the wooden door swung wide on its hinges and young ponies began to pour out. Shades of gray pranced across Alile's vision as he searched for Kibeth's hide, lest the filly escape his notice and run off to the cafeteria with her friends to beg for chocolate cakes; it was spoiling her dinner. He noticed the tell-tale scars and let out a reflexive "Ah!" Kibeth stopped dead in her tracks.

"You caught me," she said, sheepishly, already seeming to know that he knew her plans. Her apologetic attention was only on Alile a moment before flittering over to the mare behind him.

"Dream!" the filly trotted excitedly over to the mare and, with little care for social moors, stepped directly up to her and nuzzled up against her chest. Dream blushed a bit, partly at the filly's forwardness and partly because she was surprised... Kibeth was tall enough to reach her chest, how long had it really been since she last saw the scarred flutter-filly...?

"Myshna, little one. How was your first class, then?"

"It was sooo neat!" Kibeth squealed with delight, "Did you know the stars are actually Am'hatai's EYES? And they can guide us everywhere we want!" She spun in a circle, sat down, and snapped her head up to gaze at the ceiling as though it were a sky filled with the stars she'd just been learning about. Dream Keeper couldn't hold back a slight giggle.

"Did you learn a lot of constellations?" Alile piped up. He actually hadn't taken the astronomy course in his stay at the tower; he knew only minimally of the stars' formations.

"Oh yes, yes, I'll tell you about them!" She flailed her hooves in a frantic rear and then leapt to all four, to prance around Alile and Dream Keeper's hooves in a neat circle. She was far too enthusiastic for having just sat through an couple-hours-long class, Alile thought to himself.

"Well, I was headed to the garden... if you two would care to escort me, I would certainly love to hear about the constellations," Dream Keeper said cheerfully, humoring the filly's jubilation and reaching out a hoof to catch her and pull her close for a hug. Kibeth hugged back momentarily before bouncing up to Alile and giving him pleading eyes.

"Let's bring Dream to the garden. And then let's go to the cafeteria. For chocolate cakes," she stated matter-of-factly. He raised an eyebrow at her. She pursed her lips and peered, very seriously, at him.

"Hahaha, all right, all right," he broke down; the mock-serious face scrunched her brow into a series of odd wrinkles and she looked practically constipated, "We'll go to the cafeteria after the garden. Just... please, tell us about these constellations already," he chuckled as he turned on his hoof and started to head back the way they'd come. Dream Keeper followed closely alongside Kibeth, her neck craned low and hooves at a slow walk so she could stay at the filly's pace and hear her stories, which the filly was clearly more than eager to tell.

* * *

"... and the swan constellation, that's Cygnus, it can guide us toward the island," she said excitedly. It was actually a fact she'd regurgitated earlier in the conversation, but neither Dream Keeper nor Alile were the type of pony to correct a filly, especially not one as enthusiastic about the subject as Kibeth seemed to be. They'd reached the garden doors, however, and Dream Keeper turned and knelt by the filly.

"I am headed into the garden now, dear, but I will see you again soon," she smiled, and Kibeth nodded understandingly. As Dream stood, her eyes flickered to Alile, who was watching the exchange approvingly.

"Myshna, Councilmember, have a good visit to the garden," he bowed his head momentarily to her.

"If you ever need help, you will let me know, yes?" she asked, gesturing implicitly to Kibeth.

"Oh, uh, yes, most certainly, my lady," Alile nodded sincerely.

"Excellent. Have a good day, and may Am'hatai's eyes watch over you," Dream pushed open the stained-glass door and slipped through the crack, disappearing in an instant. Alile and Kibeth both looked after her for a moment, before Kibeth began tugging on Alile's cape.

"Chocolate cake now?" she pleaded. Alile heaved a sigh.

"We can pick one up for after dinner, I suppose."


	18. Chapter 18 - The Shadow

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Eighteen - The Shadow_

That night, as with many nights previous, a dark figure skirted the parapets of one of the tallest balconies of the tower. It slid in and out of shadows as though they were of the same liquid, oozing and misting through the atmosphere at alarming speed and only materializing long enough to tell the form was dressed in a cloak of sorts that obscured almost all detail save that it was clearly a flutterpony. It drifted its way lazily, almost effortlessly as though being carried by the wind, upward, landing on a yet-higher balcony. Only two more balconies remained between it and the very top of the tower, where the seven smaller towers stood. The distance, great to any earthpony who had no means of flying, was bridged in a split-second, as though the ooze had slipped through the cracks of the stone walls of the tower themselves, and seeped immediately from the cracks at the top.

For yet another night in a row, the figure slipped and wove through the seven towers till it came to the last. It climbed the tower, up to the top, impossibly high and steep for a pony, any pony, to reach. Then it climbed back down. It circled the height of the tower clockwise... counterclockwise... and paused at a sparkling window, glinting moonlight and twinkling like the star-backdrop, barely noticeable in the shade of a small overhang. The silent figure stopped, freezing instantly, stock-still as a statue, as though it had never lived or moved at all.

It stayed there through the night.

* * *

The inky black that strangled the night slowly began to pale and turn ever-so-slightly blue; finally, light began to reach over the horizon, the first strands barely warming the frosted desert sands with their tiny, nimble caresses. One particular sunbeam arched over the distance and gracefully fell on a transparently-clear window, its full force flaring at one angled mirror inside the tower, then another, then another, until - mere seconds later - a dot of light appeared on the cheek of a gray-hued flutterpony nestled into a small bed in the corner of an otherwise sparse room. The light-spot grew, and grew, until it began to get into the pony's eyes.

The first drip of delicious sunlight that leaked into her dreams immediately roused Silverdusk. One bright blue eye, then the other, popped open in an instant, and she leapt out of bed with near-mechanical precision, her black-faded hooves landing gracefully on the cold stone floor. She shook the aquamarine tresses out of her eyes and galloped across the room despite its lack of length; there, at the other end, was the reason the room had been designed and the reason she was volunteered to sleep in it: the Dawnbell.

The bell was as large and as wide as a flutterpony; one could easily fit inside, possibly two if they happened to be contortionists. It was not shaped like the typical bell, but instead immediately tapered outward from the metal loop on which it hung into a cylinder shape, which had no flair outward at the bottom but was expertly and painstakingly, gradually fluted from about midway down the bell to its bottom rim, all the way around. The bell's clapper was actually a globe of solid, polished sterling silver... it had all sorts of runes carved into it, the meanings of some of which had been lost to the ages, many others involving rites of protection, alertness, and good fortune. The bell itself, unlike its clapper, was made of a strange, special metal. It did not shine like most metals; instead its surface was a matte white, with a slight sheen of green. Silverdusk knew many stories about the bell, but knew the very least about where the metal had come from to craft it... there were stories, but no definite truths.

Hanging silently alongside the bell was a length of satin rope. It hung from high in the rafters, looped around and latched onto the large mechanism that would allow the bell to swing. Silverdusk picked up the coil of rope that was touching the ground and slowly, carefully stepped backward across the room. The muscles in her neck strained as her teeth fought to keep hold of the rope and the giant, weighty bell began to lift and take on a more horizontal position in the air. Silverdusk had nearly backed all the way across the room when the bell finally reached the zenith of its predestined arc and awaited release. Silverdusk looked out the tiny window again, as best she could. Light was definitely shining in. She steeled her nerves, and let her jaw's grip loosen; the silken rope slid quickly from her teeth and the bell immediately swung downward.

Silverdusk had a proper moment to flatten her ears against her head and face away from the bell; this was good, because standing in the room with the Dawnbell was like putting one's ear to the mouth of a Blastbeast... the duck-billed, camel-like creatures could call to one another across the desert, and hearing one up-close could easily cause dizziness, confusion, nausea, and in some cases blindness, brain hemmorhaging, and even death.

The Dawnbell was slightly less devastating. Silverdusk could feel her bones vibrating, her teeth chattering involuntarily, as the first round 'GONG!' of the bell reverberated through the tower. The bell swung like a pendulum to the opposite side of its frame, hung in the air a moment as momentum fought gravity, and then swung gracefully down to let out another 'GONG!'

Seven of these passed, and on the ending arc of the bell's seventh ring, Silverdusk whipped around, grasped at the silken rope and pulled it taught. Even with the strength she put into it, the bell was too heavy to simply stop in mid-air. It did, however, slow its descent, and the clapper inside rattled disappointingly as if to say 'Over? Already?' as Silverdusk carefully lowered the bell into its silent, standstill position.

"Phew," she heaved a sigh aloud, to herself. It was her last day of duty with the Dawnbell for the month, and with a mix of relief and exhaustion, she began unpacking her things from the one small dresser that sat at the foot of the bed. She hoped her replacement would leave the room tidy, because she seemed to recall she might be back on Dawnbell duty the very next week. She was one of the few volunteered for it, as one of the few ponies with the morning duties, strength, and motivation to be waking up and ringing the bell each morning.

When she stepped out of the room carrying a sack full of clothes in her mouth, she did not expect to run into anyone. Her bag dropped, spewing clothes out across the floor, and, flustered, she had to keep from yelling at the pony who'd obstructed her walking path. She glanced upward, for the pony was tall, and immediately she noticed the neon green shocks of hair that made the pony familiar.

"Regulus!" she said in surprise, and then lowered her head a bit in acknowledgement of his superiority. The stallion continued to stand there, peering down at her, almost seeming to look through her and off into another distance... but shortly, she shook his head, and snorted, rolled his eyes, and focused on Silverdusk again.

"What are you doing up here, my lord? Not to tell you how to do your job, but oughtn't you be down in training with the archers?" she asked, carefully.

"I... don't know," he admitted equally as carefully, then snorted again, "nor does it matter. Mountain Pass is working with the archers today, I have other duties. Other duties..." he seemed to trail off, and suddenly, he was paying no more attention to Silverdusk. Instead, he turned on his heel, and with his tail thrashing around fitfully behind him, began to descend the steps from the Dawnbell room toward the cafeteria.

Silverdusk waited a few moments, pondering the strange encounter, before heading down the stairs herself. She didn't want to catch up with him; something about his demeanor seemed off and she didn't particularly want to talk to him about it.

* * *

Regulus found Alile and Kibeth in the cafeteria. The aroma of mashed potatoes and gravy hung heavy in the air and he felt his stomach inquire. His nostrils flared and sucked in more information: baby carrots, corncakes, mixed berries, buttermilk, everything coalesced and suddenly he was ravenous, as though he hadn't eaten in days. Alile was waving to him, motioning him over; he waved faintly back as he passed and headed straight for the head of the lunch buffet line. None of the ponies in line protested; the majority knew not to get in front of Regulus when he had the purposeful look that hardened his eyebrow line and made his eyes flood with a palpable darkness.

Everything he saw as he passed down the lunch line, he snatched. It piled on his plate into an unrecognizable mass, and when he reached the condiments, napkins, and pony-proper silverware, he passed them all by. He turned and made a bee-line back toward Alile. When he reached the table, he stood directly across from Alile and, without a word, simply started eating.

"So, it's... good to see you..." Alile awkwardly offered after a few moments of silence had passed between them.

"Mm, you, too," he paused long enough to swallow and make the words understandable, then immediately went back to his plate.

Kibeth sat across the table, diagonally, from Regulus, and watched him eat with awe in her eyes. She was a relatively light eater - sometimes Alile wondered if she got the proper amount of nutrition for a growing foal - and clearly couldn't fathom another pony inhaling so much food.

Alile had been in desert training before. Meant to teach the ponies how to survive if they became lost in the desert, it was a hellish six-day trek through the sands with so little nourishment; he recalled the cafeteria having to send emergency word for a new caravan of supplies and a wave of apprentice produce-gatherers having to work overnight to collect the food necessary to restock the kitchen after the group of ponies returned.

It didn't explain why Regulus was acting this way. He had been at the tower the whole time.

So, the trio finished their meals mostly in silence, with Regulus obviously finishing first. It didn't take long for Alile to finish, and Kibeth had actually lost her appetite. The cafeteria had mostly cleared out by the time they finally started to talk.

"How is Kibeth doing?" Regulus asked. His voice sounded almost falsely casual.

"How are YOU doing?" Alile asked, suspect in return.

Regulus heaved a sigh and his entire body went lax. With a weary stare down at the table, he tried to formulate his thoughts into a coherent explanation.

"I'm tired. I feel like I haven't slept since the incident," he finally, pitifully gave up, and shrugged his shoulders.

"You haven't been to the infirmary or a doctor? They have medicine for that, why haven't you told anyone?"

"I did," Regulus responded quickly with clear exasperation, "I did talk to one of the doctors, and they did give me something to sleep. And I close my eyes and lay down at night and, then it's morning and I open them again, and I feel... restless.

"It's been weeks since the incident; if I really weren't sleeping, I would be dead by now, right?" he then turned and asked Alile with a strident tone of desperation.

"Well... yes, I guess, that's true... but you really don't feel like you've slept?"

"Not a wink!" Regulus slammed his hoof on the table, snapping with sudden anger.

Kibeth was started and her eyes widened, then teared up, glistening softly as her lips wriggled. Alile put a hoof around her, over her shoulder, and brought her close, and turned a disapproving eye on Regulus.

"I can understand your frustration. Do you think it might be something else, maybe not medical? Magical? You could go see the new wizard and maybe he would be able to check you for something...?"

"No, no wizards," Regulus shuddered. His flesh crawled as he remembered the smell of char-burnt ponyhide that blasted him in the face when Alile had fallen out of the safe room. The surprised look on the previous Magician's face. And that disgusting bird, though a morbid curiosity inside him wondered if the new magician was taking care of it as well as Indigaster had.

"Well," Alile desperately searched for a response, to offer some encouragement, "maybe you could go into the nearest town and see a doctor there? Maybe they would have more insight..?"

Regulus shook his head, simply. This was a silly idea. He would need to be given permission by the Seven, and it would be difficult to even get an audience for such a request, let alone get it accepted, and then, they would likely force him to go on his own, citing their need to keep the rest of the residents safe. He would not likely make it through the desert alone... some treks were simply too big for one pony. He shook his head again.

"Maybe... maybe I'm sleep-walking, or something. Do you..." Regulus trailed off, licked his lips, braced his courage and ignored the embarrassment of asking, "do you think you could stay in my room tonight and... see if anything is going on...?"

"Don't you think someone would have seen you, if you were sleep-walking? Seen you leave your quarters? The guards, or anyone up for night duties...?"

Regulus' eyes simply pleaded with Alile. It was clear he didn't want to have to discuss the issue further; the sooner he could get the other's agreement, the sooner he could forget the incident happening and the upcoming night could be over with... hopefully, with answers as a result.

"All right, if I can bring Kibeth over, we'll stay with you and see what's going on," Alile muttered. He did not relish the thought of losing sleep, but Kibeth occasionally slept fitfully so he mused to himself that it couldn't be any worse than any night she had awakened him repeatedly with her night-terrors.

"I truly appreciate it. Myshna. I'll see you in my room after dusk." Regulus immediately stepped up from his place by the table, leaving his mess for the cafeteria crew. He turned purposefully and strode out of the room, disappearing around a corner almost more quickly than Alile could blink. Alile pursed his lips and thought back over everything that had just happened, then looked down at Kibeth. Inwardly he wondered if this was all truly a common side-effect of the spell the Magician had done, or if something had gone wrong... or if they were completely unrelated and coincidental. He pondered this and realized he had no way of telling. He was no detective.

He felt Kibeth wrap her forelegs around him, hugging him and needing him near. He patted her on the head, "It's almost time for class, you wouldn't want to miss it, right?"

The filly silently but enthusiastically shook her head. Together, they cleaned up the table - even Regulus' trash - and stepped off down the hallway without a glance back.


	19. Chapter 19 - The Head of Justice

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Nineteen - The Head of Justice_

It was a couple of days before the apprentice found the body. Apprentice Hearstead had been tasked with studying under one of the Seven that day, for just a short while, and he apprehensively ascended the multiple staircases leading him ever-higher in the tower hoping it wouldn't be the last time he walked up them. There were always tales floating around about how members of the Seven wantonly threw members of Zith-lynd out into the desert alone, to fend for themselves, for making te slightest misstep in conduct. He swallowed the hard lump that was quickly forming in his throat and trudged forward.

Climbing, now nearly panting, he soon came to a staircase that led not to another level, but to a set of double-doors guarded by two ponies who seemed to glare at him as he approached. The guard to the left, dressed with a bright, royal blue cape denoting his position as a Captain, peered at the twenty-something young flutterpony, his tawny hair in a windswept bun and a frightened look in his otherwise bright eyes. He rolled his eyes and barked, "Announce yourself."

"M-myshna, I am apprentice Hearstead, here to study with the Head of Justice," Hearstead began uncertainly; his teacher hadn't told him there was an appropriate path of discourse with these guardsponies, so he hoped his impromptu guesses would be accepted. The guard looked him up and down once more, and then muttered, "Proceed".

Hearstead pressed lightly on the seam of the broad, white double-doors and they parted neatly, almost effortlessly, giving way to a nearly completely dark room. How anyone could live here - let alone any of the Seven - Hearstead couldn't believe. Light came down from the ceiling in neat cylinders, outlining sevens spots on the dark floor, which closer inspection revealed was actually delicately detailed with possibly some of the finest tile handiwork Hearstead had ever seen. It gave him cause to peer off into the darkness. Soon he saw walls.

The room was octagonal, and each wall had a single door with two small standards hanging loosely to each side. Each door aside from the entrance was inlaid with patterns in one of seven minerals, and each had a helpful, silver placard attached at eye-level, expertly engraved with the names of the standing Seven members. Hearstead peered around the room trying desperately to make out the insignia and colors of the Head of Justice's wall. Living in Zith-lynd required proper observance of procedure, and part of that was understanding the basis of the Seven, including the reasons for their insignia. Hearstead had no time nor reason to consider that; his eyes searched simply for a banner of red, patched with the dual-symbol of a scroll crossed with a knife, and fell on it as soon as he contemplated it.

As he trotted up to the door, he read on the placard, "Master Gholfil, Head of Justice"; as it should have been, so he made to knock on the door... but it swung ever-so-slightly on its well-oiled hinges despite its great weight, and revealed a seam of inner room.

"Master...?" Hearstead called shakily, hoping desperately no one would pop out of the dark at him. No one did. He pushed the door open with a bit of force, and clapped a hoof on the door frame. This action seemed to make a lamp by the bedside spring into light, which bathed the room and instantly revealed the body.

The Head of Justice had looked to be brutally slain, his countenance twisted in abject terror as though the Goddess Kei-ahi herself had risen from the bowels of her imprisonment to purposefully and savagely claim his soul. However, his body seemed to remain intact, save for its visibly withered appearance, as though it had been left to dry in the sun for several weeks. The lack of wounds was even more of a mystery considering the room had been seemingly covered, floor to ceiling, with thick layers of now-rust-red substance. It looked to have been painted across the walls with a wild and quick touch, paintbrush splatter, streaks, and missed spots evident everywhere... but a frightening mess all the same.

Hearstead stood in the room for several moments, feeling cold as ice, as though a spell had been cast on him to freeze him in place, though none had. His stomach suddenly turned against him, leaping up with gymnastics that finally spurred him to wildly wheel around and make for the door. He hadn't had much, but he emptied his inner contents in the great, dark atrium. When he'd finally composed himself enough to stand on sturdy legs, he brought his voice to his throat and summoned the guards.

* * *

The young apprentice was put to much question, but the guards had personally observed his entrance and knew there had been no way for him to commit the crime in the short time since they'd seen him enter. The Seven - temporarily Six, and sent into a frenzy for it - searched near-tirelessly for the reason for the murder and came up with nothing. They found no pony other than the Six themselves had entered the Great Hall atrium since the late afternoon of three days previous, when one of the other Six had personally seen Gholfil enter his room, clearly still alive, and he had heard no commotion until Hearstead's entrance in the morning.

As more time passed and no answers were found, the Six became desperate. They began questioning everyone in the tower. They instituted an earlier curfew and more guards were posted at the higher levels of the tower. Night Watch began earlier, and ponies spent part of the night carefully patrolling the outer turrets despite the cold that often nipped at ponies from the desert night. The Six became paranoid. They entered into a zhufast of desperation, locking themselves into confinement together without food or water and searching, together, for guidance from Am'hatai herself.

They received no answer.

The increased activity from the Six meant more work for Regulus and Alile. Alile was up for long shifts and had to begin teaching Kibeth how to get her own meals at the cafeteria. He introduced her to the lunch workers, who seemed to take a shine to her and were happy to reassure Alile she would be fine visiting on her own. He'd worked several nights of back-breaking shifts of guard and patrol duty before he remembered the last encounter he'd had with Regulus. He hadn't seen the other stallion since then and immediately began to worry about him.

One day, in a spare moment of time, he grabbed as quick a bite to eat for breakfast as he could and immediately headed to Regulus' quarters. He rapped quickly at the door when he reached it, hoping he wasn't waking Regulus and that the stallion had time to speak. He waited for a minute, two minutes, and his face began to fall. It was his only break in the day for quite some time and he knew almost all of the important members of the Zith-lynd protective force would be busy during the evening as he was. Still, no answer came from Regulus' door. He began to feel embarrassed, silly, standing in the hallway waiting for a door that clearly wasn't opening. Finally, he resigned himself to missing the stallion, stepped back, and turned to walk away.

"Alile, Myshna, it is so good to see you," he heard echoing down the hall he'd just pointed away from. His ears perked and he leapt in a half-circle to face the other flutter, who was coming to greet him with a patient, somewhat lordly smile. He looked almost arrogant, and exactly like Regulus ought to have. Alile smiled to note the change in his friend and leapt to greet him.

"Hey, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be getting ready for the second round of spear classes in the training rooms on sixteen?" Regulus asked with concern the moment the two met in the hallway. Alile was momentarily taken aback; he was surprised the other stallion was worried about his own schedule. He looked closely at Regulus, but the stallion looked awake, well-groomed, and looked to be getting impatient waiting for an answer.

"I came to check on you. After the last time we saw you, uh, Kibeth asked about you," Alile shrugged, "I've been busy but I finally got a free moment to see if I could catch you. Have you finally gotten some help with getting sleep?"

"Oh, that?" Regulus scoffed, "that issue went away, it was nothing. Like a cold or something, it must have been; I feel perfectly fit now."

"You're sure? That's good to hear. You really looked exhausted..."

"Yes, well, not anymore. And you should knock it off, too. These hours aren't that hard, just catch your wind and get up to sixteenth floor. I think the students were beginning to line up last I was up there, and I doubt your assistant will be as patient waiting for you as I am. They have all of the spears ready and sharp for you, also." The pony waggled his eyebrow ridge, then quickly disappeared into his room, leaving Alile to stand agape in the hallway a moment before hastily sprinting off to the appropriate staircase and start his ascent.

* * *

It was only a few weeks later that word began to spread, rumors about the Six choosing a new Head of Justice. Immediately, tall tales began to be spun, ponies began to talk amongst their friends about who would be the best candidates, and even younger ponies began to pass around notes in class about which candidates they might vote for. It was a lot of heated talk with no announcement of any plans having been made, quite an assumption, but still the talk continued, until one night, a group of ponies were contracted to post notes on all of the tower's various and easily-accessible memo boards.

It was around one of these announcements that ponies from Kibeth's class gathered. They all clamored about as she tried to read it and their various bobbing heads and screeching voices made it difficult, but she finally pieced it together. She'd had only the barest amount of knowledge bequeathed to her about the inner workings of the Seven or their many and varied purposes, but she knew about their existence and how important they were to the daily and not-so-daily operations of the tower. If it weren't for the Seven, she had been told in hushed tones by somepony, the entire tower would crumble and every pony would be sucked into the ground with it. It seemed rather outrageous, but Kibeth was still young; who was she to argue? The more sensational it was, the better she remembered the cautionary tale and was eager to see who would be saving the tower from such an abysmal fate by taking up the cause of being the next Head of Justice.

There were a series of ponies listed. Among them she noticed two familiar ones... Alile and Regulus. Surprised, and curious, she filed it in her mind to ask Alile about it when she went home from her classes, which hadn't yet ended for the day. She thought little of it, as the initial lists were long and, she had been told, consisted primarily of those already sworn to protect the tower with their lives, which of course included the two, both stallions being part of the guard.

Still, the thoughts weighed on her as she worked her way through her classes. They had expanded since her first day in her first astronomy course, and she had taken on even more than the usual foal her age, though none had been related to magic. She had asked Alile to suggest a magic course for her to take and he could even mumble and offer the general courses, which she had signed up to take in a few months. She worried she would never get placed in more advanced classes without choosing a specialty soon, though; some ponies had practically been denied training in the magics for being too wishy-washy about their choice of speciality, and she did not want to choose incorrectly.

At the last portion of her history class, she finally felt the questions weighing on her in almost unbearable amounts. She politely requested to be excused from class and was given permission; she would need to ask a fellow classmate for the night's coursework later. She quickly packed her things and made a beeline for the nearest upward-spiralling staircase. Their quarters were several flights up, but she had no doubt she would make it in enough time to catch him before he made off for the night's rounds and left her to fend for herself with dinner.

Out of breath, she finally stumbled in the door and immediately smelled the heady perfume of what seemed to be a several-course meal already awaiting her. She stopped dead in her tracks, just soaking in the almost spellbinding aromas that threatened to cause a river of drool to spill from her maw. She composed herself and closed the door to see Alile on the other side, still removing fresh food from a sack that he seemed to have brought up from the cafeteria. He seemed a little startled to see her but went with the flow.

"Glad you got home early, actually, could you help me unpack? I was thinking we might spend a little extra time on dinner together tonight. It's been too long since we really got to sit down and eat dinner together. I hope that's all right?"

"Of course!" Kibeth dropped her book-sack inside the door and launched toward the sack of food. She could smell, wafting from this particular bag, the maddeningly sweet tang of fresh strawberries, and she dug her muzzle into the sack to pull out the small cup of them, which she obediently - tortuously - brought to the table without eating a single bite before getting there. Alile waited until she seated herself before taking a seat of his own, and he smiled genuinely at her. She saw weariness in his eyes but said nothing, just smiled back, before pointing at the feast he had laid out.

"Ah, let me thank Am'hatai," he clapped his hooves together a moment and then cleared his throat.

"Goddess of all, creator of all, giver of all, taker of all, we observe our lives in your honor and it is in your honor we eat this sustenance and thank you."

Kibeth immediately began to fill her plate with all manner of bits from the feast. There were several flavors of muffin and types of fruit, as well as a cinnamon-apple oatmeal that had been the initial scent to strike her fancy and which she greedily finished the rest of the bowl of, once Alile had gotten his fill. There were also buttery, flaky pastries filled with a corn-spinach mix that must have been a new addition from the cook. Kibeth needed coaxing from Alile to try this particular creation, and Alile cut one open and ate half before she became intrigued enough to take a bite. She didn't seem repulsed, but asked if he would like to trade her portion for the last of the strawberries. He laughed and then put on a perfectly serious face and shook his head, looking her straight in the eye while saying, directly, "no". There was silence for a moment and then they both began to laugh together.

It was only then that Kibeth remembered what she had wanted to speak with Alile about.

"There's a list for candidates to become the next Head of Justice, and I saw your name on it. What is it? Do you think you'll get picked?"

"Oh, umm, ahem," Alile put down the strawberry he was in the middle of and fidgeted a bit. He considered his answer, since she'd asked a rather complicated question.

"Have you taken your Zith-Lynd Structure courses yet? I forget..."

Kibeth nodded vigorously, and tried to recall a random piece of knowledge to prove it, but Alile interrupted.

"You must have missed the advanced courses or you would know this. The Seven make the major decisions for the tower together. Each of them speaks to the presented issues from the point of their Embodiment... the virtue they become the Head of.

The Embodiment of Justice would speak to all points in defense of and from the viewpoint of Justice."

Kibeth started to roll her eyes, as if to say 'I already know this'; Alile caught her fidgeting and moved forward.

"They'll choose the pony they think most embodies the qualifications. They'll bring the candidates up to participate in a series of challenges and answer a series of questions, and they pare down the candidate pool until it's a few ponies, when they'll begin the more complicated task of asking Am'hatai to help their choice and make her blessing, which can take quite a while to prepare for. It's a good thing they're not waiting too long to begin the process.

"Do I think I'll get picked? I... don't know. I've never answered the questions for the Head of Justice; Gholfil was an old pony, he'd been in the position since I was old enough to become part of the running for the position. I doubt I have a chance, in my honest opinion... there are most surely ponies much closer to the late Head of Justice than I was. If anything, it will be someone of a higher rank, or someone who was a close friend."

"Regulus was in the running, wasn't he?" Alile asked. Kibeth nodded the affirmative.

"He would have a much better chance than I do. He's about the right level, and I think he could get a recommendation from Dream Keeper. He's got the dedication, especially with how quickly he got the guardsponies under control once the Head was found in his room. He's actually got quite the good chance of being selected... we should wish him luck. I'm sure he would make a great Head of Justice, right?"

Kibeth shrugged, a mix of uncertain and unconcerned; she was starting to dig around on the table looking for more food, though between them, despite the chatting, they'd managed to devour the majority of it. She picked carefully at one of the last muffins, pulling out all of the sweet and tangy cranberries and letting them roll around in her mouth a bit before swallowing them.

"Well, if you come home one day, and I'm not here, you can be pretty sure it's because I've been called for the questioning. The Sev- er, the Six usually decide somewhat randomly when your questions are due, and you get called away from the middle of whatever you're doing. Even if I were in the middle of training, or trying to help someone carry something heavy... they expect you to drop everything and show up as quickly as possible. It's a serious offense if you miss your scheduled time. So... just don't worry too much if I take a while getting back. I'll try to get Dream Keeper to come check on you, if possible."

Kibeth nodded obediently, then her mouth suddenly parted in a wide, lengthy yawn. Alile clucked his tongue, "Not quite bed time yet, m'lady, you still have coursework to do."

Though she'd been mostly silent the past several minutes, now the filly let out the loudest, longest, most tortured-sounding groan.

"None of that, young lady; off to your corner, I'll clean up this mess," Alile motioned in the direction of the corner of the quarters that was occupied by the comfiest chair - which he always reserved for Kibeth's study-times - and then turned back to the dirty plates and dishes on the table. Kibeth's mind had already wandered off the topic of the Head of Justice replacement, but Alile was still dwelling on it. _At the very least_, he thought to himself,_ I wouldn't be caught dead as the Head of Justice... because I wouldn't want to be found, dead._


	20. Chapter 20 - The Call

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Twenty - The Call_

As it turned out, Alile didn't have to wait long to be summoned by the remaining Six. It was only a few days later that he was ascending the stairs to visit with the infirmary about a student of his that had been injured in training when he heard The Call. It started as a soft-seeming buzz in his head, as though he was beginning to get dehydrated... but it quickly became louder until suddenly a voice boomed in his head, an uncomfortable feeling like having a pony personally remove your brain and roll it around and back and forth between their two hooves, examining it in a similar way to a doctor examining a naked body... somewhat disconcerting.

After a quick stop at the infirmary, which was on his way, he heeded The Call and began the inevitable ascent to the top of the tower. He wasn't certain where they would be doing the questioning - they always seemed to choose a different place, in his experience - but the buzzing in his mind was still going, and would easily lead him there. He reached the top of a flight of stairs and felt the buzz begin to seemingly vibrate only the rightmost portion of his head... he veered to the right and headed toward the staircase in his vision. The buzz led him upward... forward... upward, and upward some more, then out onto one of the many balconies and carefully up the wallside steps until he was about three-quarters up the height of the tower, standing on one of the larger balconies, staring off into the distance of the desert and feeling his flesh crawl with impatience, waiting for the buzzing in his mind to end.

He turned away from the desert landscape sprawling out in his view and instead faced the rest of the balcony he was standing on. There were, of course, six figures standing in a circle there, awaiting his presence with varying amounts of patience; one of them seemed to be quietly, if pointedly, rapping a hoof against the ground in a rhythmic tapping manner. Alile carefully approached them and came to stand in the midst of the circle they created, and they all turned to face him.

"Sergeant Alile of the Blackforce, son of Konen, why do you come to us today?" The voice seemed to have been thrown; there was no way to tell which of the Six figures surrounding him it might belong to.

"I have heard and heeded The Call; I am here at your behest."

"And do you know why The Call was sent?" another voice, lighter, more feminine, asked from directly in front of him but not directly in front of him. He grimaced a bit, peered around himself at the cloaked pony-figures that stood stock-still except for the patient floating and movement of their capes caught in the late-afternoon desert updrafts.

"Yes; the Head of Justice must be chosen, and I am one of the ponies nominated for the position." Alile kept his voice neutral and tried not to fidget.

"Do you understand the procedure?" Another voice, this time behind him, but there was no member of the Six standing there, naturally. He gritted his teeth and tried not to look upset that the questioning seemed to be going this way.

"Yes, I understand."

There was silence. Alile felt the tingle of sweat prickling across the hairs of his hide as the sun's rays began to get uncomfortably hot on him. He realized the Six were waiting.

"You will ask me a series of questions, I will answer truthfully, and you will consider my worthiness," Alile added, hoping that was going to convince them to finally get started.

A general mumble started up amongst the circle, as though they were all discussing his actions and responses in monotone. It lasted a few moments and stopped abruptly as though they had all secretly somehow told each other exactly when to cease making noise.

"You're in a bedroom. It's evening. There is a nightstand, wooden. It looks old. There's a candle, flameless. Next to it, a vase. What color is the flower?"

The voice was feminine; Alile felt himself being distracted a little from the narration but thankfully caught the end question. He was surprised they seemed to be starting with the strangest questions, first, this time around. He mentally walked through the proposed situation and imagined the flower in question, its bright yellow petals gleaming in the moonlight.

"Yellow," he finally answered curtly.

"A pony steals a loaf of bread. What do you do?" A nondescript voice immediately followed up.

"Uhhh..." Alile considered. He knew the Six didn't answer questions, only asked them... he was expected to give as best an answer he could. It took him a long moment to consider the many sides.

"If he is not under my jurisdiction, alert the authorities. If he is... I would... take him to the nearest holding facility and prepare him for trial," he began to look a little nervous.

"Your mother betrays the ideals of Zith-lynd and the goddess Am'hatai. She refuses to turn herself in and comes to you for advice. What do you do?"

Alile gulped. He didn't have a mother - not anymore - but he was expected to consider what he would do, if he did. He paused for a somber moment of silence.

"I would beg her to turn herself in, and... refuse to house her, I suppose," he concluded.

"What color are the stars?" Another question shot from another direction.'

"Every color," he recited from memory, as Am'hatai had no one eye color but every eye color imaginable.

"Which of the Seven Virtues do you follow?"

"Compassion," Alile responded rotely... the Virtue he'd chosen as a younger pony, it felt odd to speak it now. It wasn't a common request.

"You may go." A voice immediately responded. Then, there was a silent expectance of his departure. He stood for a moment, looking around and taking in the ring of chosen ponies with a discerning eye before carefully turning away from them and fluttering off down the side of the tower. The moment he had stepped off the balcony they'd been on, he could hear them discussing things behind him... and then the rapid beating of his wings as he hefted himself into the air drowned out the sound. He was mostly glad his head was no longer buzzing with the Six's intrusive mind-speak. He floated downward like a leaf released from its dried autumn twig, down until he reached the third-level balcony that signalled an entrance to the cafeteria. Tables were set up outside and he came in for a careful landing in the designated area.

He had a relatively certain feeling he would not be passing the Six's muster. It was all right by him; the duty held no interest for him and he had better things to be doing with his time.

He turned to peer out at the sun, which was beginning to descend toward the distant sands with its usual ponderous gait. Kibeth would be getting out of her final classes soon; Alile wondered how quickly he could gather food from the cafeteria to bring home for another evening feast.

* * *

She pressed her hoof against the now-familiar metal panel that was the target for a hoof-press on the stained-glass windowed door and it swung opened with her practiced strength; she trotted quickly out into the garden and immediately stopped a moment to sniff a nearby tulip. The soft petals tickled the fine hairs on her muzzle and her nose twitched to rid her nostrils of the overwhelming need to sneeze. It faded quickly and she backed away from the tulip momentarily for another gaze. Nearby, a row of bluebells seemed to call her name. They hung in such perfect, straight symmetry, she bowed low to the ground and simply stared at them, without breathing - lest she muss them up - for a minute before pulling away and exhaling forcefully, then drawing in a deep drink of oxygen.

The heady scent of her entire garden pulled in all in one swift breath would normally make a pony swoon, but for Mistblossom it simply felt right. Entering the artificial, circulated air of the tower or standing in the humid, sweaty, desperate, strangling air of the midday desert made her feel like a fish attempting to breathe on land... she felt suffocated and shriveled. Part of the use of the fruit and vegetable gardens in her flower patches were for her own consumption; she rarely had to leave the garden's grounds, and she could not remember a time that she had spent an entire day in the tower at one length. Such restrictions usually meant she had few friends... she felt nervous enough around strange ponies without also feeling like she was choking on the air.

That's why she liked Dream Keeper's visits so much. Ponies came and went through the garden, but usually it was just for their own enjoyment, or stress relief, or contemplation, or musing, and rarely did any of them approach her, not even to say how much they enjoyed the garden she fought so hard to protect partly for their sake. So, she spent most of her time on her bamboo bed in her secluded corner of the garden... it sat behind a bamboo copse and could not be seen from the main pathways through the garden, and Dream Keeper was one of the few ponies privileged enough to have been told of its existence. They had spent several afternoons enjoying themselves in this small piece of the larger piece of quiet tranquility; Mistblossom had even made them dinner a time or two, and Dream Keeper had been able to stay to watch the sunset with her. They were good memories.

Which was why she was beginning to feel upset that her friend had yet to show up for their pre-arranged meeting time. She paced around her garden carefully sniffing at some of the closest flowers to check their potency - which she was satisfied with - and then approached a nearby fruit tree to sample a piece of its fruit. Fluttering high to the treetop, she peered down over her garden to see if perhaps Dream Keeper was hiding somewhere hoping to scare her, and as she picked a peach off the top of the tree and scanned the garden, she realized it was a silly idea and carefully fluttered back down to the pathway she'd just taken off from.

She had no idea why the mare wouldn't show up. She didn't recall any previous offense she may have caused. There had been no special happenings in the tower that day, save for the beginning of the questioning for the position within the Six.

That's when it dawned on her... Dream Keeper had been in the running for the position of Head of Justice. Mistblossom knew the calls to duty from the Six were frequently unexpected... perhaps that was what was delaying her friend. She heaved a sigh; there was also no way to tell how long the interrogation could take. Rumors circulated that it could last days, but surely that wasn't the case. She knew any questioning Dream Keeper answered would likely be answered quickly. The mare was a whiz with words when she needed to be, it seemed like. It was too bad she seemed so stuck up with her formal speech and tone. Mistblossom had learned to look past it.

Suddenly, there was the telltale soft creak of the hinges of the entrance to the garden. Mistblossom hurriedly disposed of the half-eaten peach in the compost and dropped the pit on her seed cart as she passed it and headed for the door. She could already hear hooves clopping down the pathway toward her and she put on a cheerful smile.

"Oh, uh, hello, miss," a gruff voice sounded as a stallion rounded the corner and seemed genuinely surprised to see her there. As if the garden managed to run itself somehow, she instantaneously scoffed inwardly.

"Good day. Are you visiting the garden for pleasure or are you here to help pick the strawberries? It's about time the ripe ones be plucked..."

"Pleasure," the stallion immediately replied, and dipped his head. His bright, unnaturally-hued green hair shook as he made the bowing motion, and Mistblossom's lips pursed at the display.

"My name is Regulus, m'lady. I don't want to be a bother, I just wished to take a stroll..."

"Please, take one, I insist," Mistblossom was immediately apologetic for her tone, and stepped aside to let him pass. She still felt perturbed on the inside, but it certainly wasn't right to be taking it out on this stallion. She watched him as he strolled by, and then away from her. She watched his handsome, toned hindquarters depart and imagined he must be some part of the castle's defenses... few ponies had the time for extracurricular strength-training unless they were part of the guard. She watched his cape flutter in the wind behind him but could see no insignia to identify him with; she imagined even if she saw one, she would have only half a guess at who it might be, being only so knowledgeable about the inner workings of the tower.

The stallion bent to sniff a rose here, a daisy there, and seemed to be ambling along at an unconcerned pace, so she spared him only a moment longer of a glance before quickly turning back to face the stained glass door. Dream Keeper certainly didn't seem to be coming, and shortly Mistblossom would need to be eating some sort of meal. She hated the awkwardness that accompanied a friend visiting when she was in the middle of a meal, and worried about this for a while. A long while. She simply stood, staring at the door, a soft breeze rustling her pale locks now and again.

Finally she decided to get started on gathering her dinner. She made a practiced round through the garden, stopping first at the vegetables, where she plucked a ripe zucchini and several beautiful, ruby-red tomatoes. There were ears of corn growing in a small portion of the vegetable garden and she considered these. Finally, she plucked off two ears, and carefully ate their husks while she moved around to shop the fruits.

There were obviously the trees; she picked ripe, fuzzy, bound-to-be-juicy peaches, and grass-green and bright golden apples. A lemon tree stood a bit neglected in one corner of the garden and from here she picked what few knew to be sweet lemons, a type of lemon that instantly and deliciously sweetened anything its juice came in contact with. It was frequently used to make sweet sodas, but some ponies began to complain of stomach aches from the sheer sweetness of the juice and use was cut back. Suffice it to say, they would be a treat to be sampling for later. In the fruit patch were several items, but she made a beeline for the giant, emerald, shining watermelons. The largest one she could find seemed appropriate; she'd been carefully cultivating them and hoped that, finally, this batch would be seedless... it would be a surprise, revealed when she sat down to eat.

Finally, she approached her grain reserves, There were already-milled barley and wheat grains, corn meals, dried beans, and several tubers. She checked the tubers for eyes and plucked a couple for consumption, followed by six cups of corn meal and two of barley. Nearby were some pre-picked herbs, which she kept in a set of herb drawers, constantly locked to keep out the prying eyes of ponies. She sampled a few of these and brought them with her.

All of this feast she piled high on her seed cart. The card was great for transporting produce around the garden as well as holding her seeds, and she was grateful for its existence now as her back began to ache from all of the harvesting. With a weary gate, she set her hooves solidly on the handles to the cart and began to push. It groaned to move forward but finally gained momentum, and soon she was pushing it over the rocky surface of the walkway... until she hit a bump. The cart hit a rut and wouldn't budge. Immediately frustrated, Mistblossom let out a strangled whinny.

A sudden rushed, clopping could be heard from the other side of the garden, and suddenly she heard "Hello? Hello, miss, are you all right?" as the stallion rounded a corner and saw her with the stuck cart. His eyes were genuinely concerned.

"I am all right... I'm afraid it's my cart. I just... lost my temper for a moment," she blew a lock of her hair out of her eyes and looked away from him sheepishly.

"Ah, is it anything I can help with?" He approached closer, and began to examine the cart and its contents. Mistblossom fluttered over to stand between him and the cart.

"Oh, no, sir... uh, Sir Regulus, I couldn't ask you to do that. I'll get this cart unstuck, just give me a moment," and immediately she began struggling with the cart again. The wheel easily in Regulus' view struggled to mount a particularly large chunk of quartz, getting caught in the rut between it and the previous cobble. It jiggled under Mistblossom's efforts but refused to begin to move forward. He just shook his head.

"Move aside, I can help you," he brushed her off and quickly jolted the cart out of the cobbles' recess, freeing it to begin to roll away. In the meantime, the watermelon Mistblossom had selected began to roll around on top of the cart. It rotated, slipped, and began to roll off the edge... and Regulus stepped swiftly forward and caught it deftly on the bridge of his muzzle, flipping it back onto the cart.

"Oh, thank you," Mistblossom breathed, relieved.

Regulus began closely eyeing the bountiful feast Mistblossom had acquired from her garden and then turned to look Mistblossom up and down with a decisive stare.

"You don't look like the type to eat this all by yourself," he chuckled. Mistblossom blushed and feigned a bit of anger.

"Of course not. It's for a friend and me. She just... hasn't shown up yet. I think she might be getting questioned by the Six..."

She trailed off and Regulus shrugged, unconcerned, for a moment before something seemed to dawn on him.

"Are you waiting for Dream Keeper?"

"Yes."

"Oh, yes, she did tell me she had something important to do when she ran off. It did seem she had received the Call. But that was hours ago, it certainly can't last much longer. Would you like me to keep you company?"

He seemed to be offering sincerely, thought Mistblossom had a very wary eye on him. She had gathered plenty of fruit for the three of them if it came to that, and he seemed to know Dream Keeper in some way. She supposed it couldn't hurt to allow him to stay and wait with her, even if she would be shooing him from the garden the moment Dream Keeper showed up.

"We can... eat in the pagoda," she offered, finally, not wanting to take him to the secret spot she had shared with Dream Keeper recently.

He followed her most obediently to the pagoda, where she laid out a blanket for them and began to cut up and serve some of the fruit. Soon they began to chat about Dream Keeper, and whether she would make a good Head of Justice. Regulus seemed a little uncomfortable with the talk, so they moved to something non sequitur... his favorite game as a child. As the sun began to descend and the sky began to darken, they discussed the tower's musicians, their previous history teachings - of which Mistblossom had few - and Mistblossom patiently listened to all of his talk about the goings-on in the tower. It helped her feel more connected to the tower-ponies despite her voluntary disconnection.

Dream Keeper never showed up that evening, and it was with great reluctance that Regulus had to wish Mistblossom a good evening and take his leave; he'd been neglecting his post for too long, and the assistant he'd hired would begin to wonder where he was. He thanked her profusely for the feast and promised he would let her know how things had gone for Dream Keeper, if the mare did not inform her, herself.

As Regulus stepped back through the stained glass doorway and into the tower, Mistblossom's gaze turned up toward the stars that were just beginning to peek out of the deep blue atmosphere. She prayed to them that all was all right with her friend. Then, she prayed that Regulus would come back to see her again, because she had enjoyed his company. She sought her bed and slept peacefully.


	21. Chapter 21 - The Six

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Twenty-One - The Six_

"He... is not the perfect candidate, but I think he may fit," the decidedly feminine voice was muted but audible through the thick, wood-paneled door. If Kyrgil cocked his ear just right, he could hear exactly what was being said. He hesitated to enter the room before he knew what the temperature was.

"I'm not sure I care what you think," a male voice shot back, aggressive and unhelpful-sounding. There was a tense silence and Kyrgil felt his own shoulders bunch up with knotted muscle. He rolled them, his thick, velvety black hide shining like an oil slick in the artificial light of the conference room hallway.

A rumor had supposedly run around that Kyrgil was to be feared; any time you saw his signature strawberry-flame mop of raggedy mane come into view, you were to turn and run in the other direction, he had heard. The guards he'd seen as he'd approached the conference room acted within the confines of such a rumor, tipping their metal-plated helmet visors to him brusquely before both turning to greet each other and then march out of the room. Kyrgil's smile had fell, but that was before he had heard the voices whispering to him almost seductively from behind the door. They begged to be caressed lightly with the ear... not barged in upon, but gently taken in. So, he eavesdropped.

"We all care what everyone thinks. We knew this would be a difficult decision; let's all calm down and treat it as such." The voice was direct, and carried an authority that ushered in another hushed silence from the ponies in the room.

"Where is Kyrgil?" the voice then piped up. Kyrgil's eyes bulged and he immediately pressed on the door's hoofplate, dancing into the room as though he had been in the greatest hurry moments before and hadn't stopped his momentum from running. He took a seat at the provided, low-down table and smiled pleasantly, "Here."

"Finally," the pony at the head of the table breathed, as Kyrgil began assessing the room's contents.

The pony who had just spoken was Dohektah, the Head of Wisdom. The pony was in his middle-ages, a plump and dull gray figure sporting a splash of a hypnotic cyan mane and tail and a small goatee to match them. His eyesight was poor, so he wore a set of glasses - clipped around his ears - at nearly all times, whether he was walking, reading, talking to another pony, or simply enjoying some fresh air. He was the obvious choice to lead most of the discussions that happened amongst the Se- er, the Six, he reminded himself, suddenly weary of his position.

The flutterpony directly to Dohektah's left was a brutish looking fellow, standing nearly as tall as the alleged height of the cafeteria head, and with a menacingly fashioned countenance, all angles and ice. He was coiffed with a bland purple, a great contradiction to the fiery passion inside the Head of Conviction, his name Roughshadow. He was easily decades older than Dohektah, but had the nerve to claim he could battle any takers, a claim Kyrgil had never decided to challenge. He imagined one day it would be done... if not by some fame-greedy battle-hound, then by one of the other Six he served with, tired of his big mouth and boisterous ways.

Sitting across from him was the female voice Kyrgil had heard pipe up earlier, the immediately recognizable mouse-whisper of Primadolla, the Head of Ingenuity. Despite her timid nature, she was always more than eager to get her hooves dirty in constantly improving the operations around the tower. She was of a bright silver color, with royal purple hair that she tended to keep tied up as tightly as possible so it wouldn't get in her eyes. She had a very visible tattoo of a swirl of blue stars on the left side of her neck; it taunted Kyrgil endlessly, though he'd had the pleasure several times before.

Sitting next to Primadolla at the table was the one other female member of the remaining Six, the Head of Compassion, Sniffle. That was her name, she insisted; just 'Sniffle'. So it had been since anyone could recall, and so it would forever be. Sniffle was an unfortunate near-dark gray color, with peasoup-green hair. She had a comely complexion and appealing figure, but she tended to get on the nerves rather quickly. She had been chosen not for her ability to get along with the other Six, but for her absolute dedication to her Embodiment. Sniffle was the most compassionate pony anyone had ever met; so compassionate she tended to obsess, and frequently made herself nervous and sick over exactly how much compassion she showed to everyone.

Down the table were the remaining members of the last Six, the Heads of Ambition and Unity. The Head of Unity was an older stallion, wizened and rough at his edges but with a strange, calming effect on those around him, especially when he took the time to speak. He was a deep charcoal color, topped with a mop of pale peach hair that he kept braided and bound in exquisite beads of all manner. He frequently explained - to ponies who would take a moment to listen - that each of the beads had been carefully picked as completely different from any of the others in his mane, each one had a tale behind it, and each one represented a different pony living in the wide waters of Azuyan that, while looking greatly different from the beads around it, was still essentially the same thing. All ponies, he would stress, were of the same matter and eventually would be the same being.

That brought the circle back around to him. Kyrgil, the Head of Ambition, a handsome stallion of youngish age, with a fiery temper and crimson red mane to compliment his bright orange, yellow-flecked, dazzling eyes. The pale silver flutterpony used these eyes to his advantage... and he took many advantages with them, being just as ambitious as his Embodiment suggested. He would take even some of the most dangerous risks if some equally fabulous reward was to be had, and he frequently found himself in trouble... if not for taking those risks, then for suggesting to take the risks, or coercing others into doing so, for he had quite the silver tongue. He sometimes wondered if it got him into more trouble than it did him good, but he wouldn't trade it for the world.

The ponies sat dutifully around the table, looking directly or indirectly at each other in turn, until finally one of them piped up.

"I think Regulus is a fine pick," Kyrgil offered, hopefully. He may have missed the beginning of the meeting, but he knew exactly what the discussion was about. Not many of the candidates from the previous weeks' screenings had been promising. Tempers were beginning to flare as ponies began to show their bias toward or against candidates following certain Truths. The Head of Compassion wanted a student of Compassion to take the free seat; the Head of Ambition, a student of Ambition. It was beginning to seem as though no one would agree on anything. Someone would have to budge. If he had to be the first one, well... he was eager to get the discussion over with and appoint a new Head, so... so be it.

Dohektah looked pleased with this concession despite Kyrgil's earlier transgression of tardiness. He peered around the table at the other Heads, stopping his gaze on each of them and awaiting an answer none seemed ready to give. Primadolla and Kyrgil were the only ones to agree to Regulus, who had been nominated by Dohektah himself. The Head of Unity - Leonard - seemed the closest to changing his mind. He was the type who, when a majority seemed to make a decision, would begin to support it as well. Kyrgil wondered if he secretly had an aversion to being the only pony to do something, or one of only a few. Yet, he was in his position, Kyrgil mused.

"I don't know if he cares enough about his friends," Sniffle muttered ruefully. There had been extensive research done into the relationships Regulus kept - such background checks were an essential part of the Head application process, and ponies were virtually stripped naked for the Six's viewing in order to chose the candidate based on some of his more secretive information - and he had few, a detriment in Sniffle's eyes. Dream Keeper hadn't mentioned him during her screening, and Alile had only thought of him once or twice, she pointed out.

"What does it matter?" Roughshadow waved a hoof dismissively in the air, "What does it matter how many friends anyone has? Once you become part of the Seven, you lose most of those relationships, anyway." The remark did not ring bitter, simply true. Kyrgil took a moment to look back fondly on some of the friendships and relationships he'd managed to cultivate in his short time before becoming a Head. He honestly wouldn't have given those relationships up for anything... anything but his position. He helped make the Tower of Zith-lynd a safe and efficient and comfortable place for all of those past friends and flames to live... that was his comfort.

"Let's ask one of them," Leonard mused, finally. The others turned to look at him. He had already gone back to whatever general musings he always did while the other ponies squabbled, until he realized the others had gone silent. He cleared his throat. "Ehrm, why not call one up here? Ask them."

"They might lie," Roughshadow muttered, unhelpfully.

"Wasn't there a child on the list? We'll ask her. I remember the child; it was Kibeth," Sniffle remarked, nodding decisively to herself. There was silence a moment, and Dohektah seemed to grumble. He was eager to get the proceedings over with, everypony could tell. He finally nodded.

"We'll call her. Everyone. Let's be gentle, she's a young thing."

* * *

That was the first time in Kibeth's life that she heard The Call. She was sitting in her appropriate desk, attentively watching the professor of her Desert Life course. Like many young fillies, she felt a great affinity for animals, and she was young enough to have little knowledge of the time and expense needed to take care of the menagerie of animals she envisioned herself one day owning. Every exotic animal she learned about was sucked into her imagination and made a part of her internal animal sanctuary necessities. Today they were learning about a small species of rare lizard that lived on the sands, and sported a flexible, retractable fin on its back which it would use either to exude heat or to occasionally fan itself. The fan would shed with the lizard's skin to make sure it was always flexible, and the leftover fans were frequently used in jewelry.

Then The Call took her away. She felt her body enveloped, almost filled like with a liquid, with a sensation of warmth, one she had never experienced. Her head ached a moment, then suddenly felt... open. As though someone had swatted it with a rug-beater, aired it out, decongested it and given it room to breathe. She took in a sudden, deep breath through her flared nostrils - it startled the ponies sitting next to her - and sat up straighter in her chair. She felt a bit faint, but a voice creeped into her head, and her attention immediately focused on it. It felt like a tickling buzz in her mind when it started, but when it formed into words and was audible, just as though someone were standing in the room with her, if she closed her eyes... which she realized she was doing. They fluttered open.

The professor of the class was looking at her patiently. Her wide, dazed eyes blinked a time or two, and she leapt from her desk and quickly stumbled toward the door. The voice was already talking in her head, but she captured what it was saying despite the professor's momentary protest and her hasty exit from the room.

"Your presence is requested on the twenty-third floor. The guards will allow you passage when you tell them your name. We have questions for you. If you need an escort, please request one of the guards bring you. It is mandatory that you come immediately."

The message rang clear and she heard every word. It was startling, but for some reason it felt right. The Six were a mysterious bunch and growing ever moreso. She didn't need a guard to reach the twenty-third floor, she mused, but she might need a new set of hooves by the time it was through. She was certain she would have the room to fly up the staircases, unlike some of the adult flutterponies... even though it was against the rules. They had insisted she come immediately, right?

Flexing her wings, she found them in perfectly working order. Satisfied, they began to flutter slowly, then more and more quickly until they were nearly abuzz and she was hovering neatly off the ground. She hadn't mastered any aerial maneuvers, but Alile and Regulus had at least taught her how to properly and efficiently lift herself. Soon she was buzzing down hallways and across artificial yards, searching for the staircases that would lead her upward. Each time she saw an adult coming or noticed congestion, she would drop to her hooves and trot obediently along with the others, herding up staircases and occasionally through guardsponies' posts, for there were several for the various levels of the tower, being that there were several balconies and doors onto them from which ponies could enter and depart.

The flying didn't seem to save her energy, necessarily; she was easily tuckered by the fifteenth floor with sill eight floors to go. Thankfully as the tower grew, the floors became slightly smaller, so by the fifteenth floor they had halved or so in size and were no longer such a long distance to cross for staircases. She took a rest on the next set of stairs she saw, trying to stay out of other ponies' ways, though there were few to be seen so high up during the day, as most of the classes, food, and jobs existed toward the bottom of the tower (where it was generally much cooler during the day). When she finally felt rested, though her hooves ached, she continued to heed the call and lifted herself to trudge onward.

Finally, she reached the last guardspost. The twenty-third floor was relatively small, and clearly mostly for meeting space use, though each meeting room had a guardspost in front of it. She peered around at the rooms and saw one with ponies posted at it; she assumed that must have been the room she was looking for. If it wasn't, certainly the guards would direct her to the right place. She trotted down the hall, relief that the journey was over being the only adrenaline to continue to push her forward. As she walked, she took the time to admire the decorating. The walls, at the ceiling and floor, were covered with a beautifully and artfully made mosaic. It simply depicted ponies in various garb doing various chores, but each figure was clearly lovingly cast, and all done entirely of either shades of blue, purple, gray, or beige, to go with the purple-and-blue banners hanging from the various beige doors that showed the entrances to the meeting rooms.

As she approached the guards, she was conscious of how exhausted she must look. She shook off some beads of sweat and then carefully approached, suddenly feeling weak in the knees and not at all good in the stomach, either. The thought of addressing the guards was, for some reason, suddenly frightening... nerve-wracking. Her heart thumped quickly in her chest and she licked her lips nervously.

"Are you all right, dear?" the stallion on the left leaned over a bit to ask, sounding concerned.

"M-myshna and greetings, my name is... Kibeth...?" she finished with almost a question, her inflection squeaking off into silence at the end, making the two guards look incredulously between themselves. One of them shrugged, and opened the door for her, seeming to know already that she was supposed to be there. Gulping lightly before taking a deep, nerve-calming breath, Kibeth stepped carefully forward and into the meeting room, feeling the light within bathe her and make her instantly sick of being there. She started to sweat nervously

"It's all right," an elderly-looking pony soothed. Leonard could tell the young filly looked completely out of her element and that much more frightened for it; it was already intimidating to be called by the Six, but at such a young age and never having met them... though they knew so much about her...

Kibeth instantly seemed to calm down. Inwardly she could feel that warmth working in again, a buzzing in her chest that was hard to ignore, like a second life birthing itself inside her, powerful and with a halo of energy that worked itself into her very bones, but was gone in the instant Leonard stopped talking and turned his attention back to the task.

"What do you know of Regulus?" Roughshadow leaned across the table and asked Kibeth directly. His wild eyes demanded to be answered immediately, and Kibeth blushed.

"U-uhm, Uncle Regulus is... he's a Captain in the Protectorate Guild..." she offered, hoping it would satisfy him, but he seemed irritated by the answer.

"That's not the way to ask," Sniffle lightly scolded him and then turned to give Kibeth a kind and patient smile. She seemed much more understanding and Kibeth instantly felt calmed again. She listened intently to what the flutter had to ask of her.

"Kibeth, we know of Regulus' position. We actually know quite a lot about him. What we want to know is how close he is to you. Does he... visit you often?"

"He... comes by a couple of days a week. Uncle... doesn't have a lot of free time," Kibeth seemed disappointed as she admitted.

"Well, that's all right. What do you usually do when he comes to visit?"

"Uhhh," Kibeth began recalling all of the time they had spent together. "Usually he eats dinner with us. But sometimes he'll take me to the cafeteria for ice cream. And sometimes we go outside and he helps teach me to fly. And sometimes Alile will even let him read me a bedtime story, even though his are scary, sometimes..." she trailed off, looking uncertain as though she was afraid she had said too much.

"Has he ever asked you to do something you didn't want to do? Or something that was against The Code, even?"

Kibeth became wide-eyed. She occasionally heard of ponies doing things against The Code, but they were usually heinous crimes and she couldn't imagine why Regulus would suggest them to anyone, let alone her. She shook her head frantically.

"No, we only do things I like to do. He helped me paint a picture, once. And one time, he took me to the cafeteria and the cook let me eat fresh berries out of a jar. And then one time he bought me these bubbles, and we went outside, and he blew the bubbles for me. I wanted him to play with me but one pony had to blow the bubbles..." Once again she trailed off.

The Six looked between each other and began talking in carefully low tones. Kibeth could only understand snippets of what they were saying, and none of the snippets together made coherent sentences, so eventually she stopped listening. Her eyes began to wander around the room as she observed the things she'd only glanced at when she first stepped in. The room had only two windows, and shades were drawn over the panes of both, so the only light in the room came artificially from a couple of magic torches on the walls and a Light Globe. The Light Globe was the most common way for ponies in the tower to light rooms; it was a heavy-duty glass globe with a tough rope handle attached to it that could easily be carried in the mouth, or over a hoof, and a correspondingly flat base so that it could be set down on flat surfaces. The globe itself was filled with a yellowish liquid that glowed with a strange, inner light.

The light bathed the rest of the room in its glow, and Kibeth glanced back to the Heads; they were still talking amongst themselves, paying her no attention at all. Her eyes immediately flashed back to wandering around the room, taking in and beginning to count the number of stone bricks on the walls, the floors, the ceiling, always stopping about 20 bricks in and allowing her eyes to begin to wander again. It was when her eyes had finally focused on a purple banner in the room and started counting the number of letters in the Old Language phrases she couldn't understand, that her fidgeting became apparent and the Head of Ambition turned to peer at her.

"It's expected that foals will not distract the Embodiments from discussion..." he seemed to chide playfully, but Kibeth was intimidated enough by the surroundings and ponies that she simply seemed to shrink and her face darken. Kyrgil frowned and his brow furrowed, but he turned back to the Heads' discussion to see if a decision had been made.

"She seems sincere," Sniffle whispered lightly, giving a shrug of her shoulders to indicate she still didn't feel swayed, but her insisted criteria had certainly been met.

"She's all there is, so she better," Roughshadow shot back, seeming irritated that this concession had not appeased the one of the Six who had been adamant about it.

"We can debate all of this later, let's let her go," Kyrgil finally added, having been mostly silent during the discussion since he had already made up his mind. The other Six looked amongst each other and then slowly nodded their heads in approval, and Dohektah took up the lead, walking around the table to approach Kibeth, who still had the nervousness-darkened face and had begun to fidget again, her tail swishing distractedly behind her and tickling her hocks. Dohektah cleared his throat.

"The Six have asked their questions, and thank you for your time. You are free to depart; may Am'hatai's eyes watch over you always." Then, the Head of Wisdom leaned down with his muzzle and pressed lightly on Kibeth's rump, ushering her toward the door. Her clumsy hooves tangled underneath her as she tried to find the placement that would allow her to walk out of the room on her own, but Dohektah had already shoveled her half-out the door, and it was closing behind her by the time she managed to stand sturdily and look back. The guards gave her a curious glance for a moment, then one of them waved his hoof in dismissal.

A bit disoriented and more than a little confused, Kibeth gave the door behind her one last look before hurriedly trotting in the opposite direction, toward the flights of stairs she'd forced herself to traverse in exhaustion for what amounted to only a few moments of questions. She was feeling all sorts of emotions, enough to completely distract her from the difficulty of the descent.

* * *

Kyrgil watched Dohektah close the door behind the filly and pursed his lips... they'd be getting back to the discussion, now, and Kyrgil was getting tired of it. He was eager to get the decision made. Before any of the other ponies could speak up, the moment Dohektah took a seat, Kyrgil was up on his hooves, flashing his bright eyes around the table at every pony gathered there.

"This is an important decision, but even important decisions must be made at some point. We have all looked at the same candidates, and considered the same promises and flaws they each have, and Regulus has become the last candidate that any of us could tentatively agree on.

"If this interview was not enough to change your minds, then let us stop considering Regulus entirely and choose another candidate. It does us no good to continue to dwell on this one stallion if we have decided against him. Please... pick another candidate. Who will it be?"

He glared around the table, then, waiting for a pony to speak up. The rest of the Heads looked away, all but Roughshadow, who met his gaze. If the gazes meeting had been a noise, they would have been a startling explosion of crashing sound, but they gazed at each other silently, and in contrast, a dropping piece of straw could have probably been heard scratching the surface of the stone floor.

Kyrgil saw Roughshadow's eyes squint, slightly, almost imperceptibly more, and inwardly he felt the rising tide of triumph washing over him. If he turned Roughshadow, the battle was likely won. The other stallion should have just admitted it... they had pared the results down for weeks and Regulus was the single pony left in the standing, no one wanted to go back to considering candidates they had already ruled out.

"Regulus... will be the right pony for the job," Roughshadow finally said aloud, sounding as though he had come to the decision himself and fully supported it from the beginning, without a hint of any grudge in his voice.

Sniffle looked around at the other ponies who had already conceded - Dohektah, Kyrgil, Primadolla, and Roughshadow - and seemed cowed, even though the interview had gone well. Her eyes flickered from side to side and then up toward the ceiling as though she were doing some quick mental math, and finally she sighed and nodded, "Regulus will do."

The five all looked to the Sixth, Leonard, the Head of Unity. He seemed completely unconcerned, even moreso than Kyrgil had at the beginning of the meeting. He coughed, snorted, rubbed at his small beard, and ran a hoof through the noisy mass of beads in his mane. Finally, he shrugged, "If we can all agree on him, he's probably the right pick. I'll certainly support Regulus."

"It's decided, then," Dohektah gave another look around the table as the ponies started to lift themselves and prepare to finally leave the cramped meeting room. The others nodded, and all Six turned to face the center of the table.

"May Am'hatai's light guide our choices, and may all choices do Her honor, that her eyes may always shine down on us in approval..." he almost seemed to mutter, a mix of exhausted and breathless.

"... May Am'hatai's eyes watch over us always," the other Five chimed in together, the proper response, given before they all hastily departed.

The Light Globe had been left on the table. As it burned, the liquid inside turned to vapor, which seeped out a small hole in the top of the globe. The liquid's level dipped lower and lower, and as it did, the light slowly went out, until all that was left was a faintly lemon-scented water-like liquid, and a dark room. A sudden, bright flash came from nowhere, flickering only for a breath before dissipating; the guards had already walked away from the previously-darkened room.


	22. Chapter 22 - The Selection

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Twenty-Two - The Selection_

Kibeth was sitting in her Herbology class when the announcement rang out across the tower. It was curious how the Seven managed to use the tower's downward acoustics to make such announcements, but Kibeth surmised it was similar to the Dawnbell that woke her every morning, despite her great distance down the tower from it. The announcement was carried through the air almost as though it were a scent, rather than words, and even the professor took a moment of silence while the students peered up at the ceiling, their ears twitching at the distraction.

"This is an important announcement, please give us your ears," a female voice seemed to read rotely as though from a scroll, "After great deliberation, the Six Embodiments have come to a decision, and the Seventh Embodiment, the Head of Justice, has been chosen. The responsibility falls to Captain Regulus Qualshar, and he has summarily accepted the responsibility. We thank you for your attention. May Am'hatai's eyes watch over you, forevermore..."

The announcement trailed off at the end as the voice became quiet, and then stilled altogether. Kibeth had felt her heart flutter when Regulus was named, and she felt deeply conscious of her connection to him, suddenly. She wasn't exactly certain what his elevation to the position of an Embodiment would do to their relationship... would she and Alile still visit him for lunch occasionally, and would he still be helping her with flying lessons as he'd promised? She found it hard to believe that one of the Heads would come down from their high perch to do anything with the more common ponies of the tower... the more she thought about it, she wasn't certain if she had ever seen a single Embodiment be a guest at the cafeteria, strolling through the garden, worrying over books in the library, teaching a class to younger tower-ponies... nothing. She began to worry if she would simply never see Regulus again.

The professor tapped his hoof on his podium a moment, then cleared his throat for the ponies the hoof-tap had not alerted. Kibeth focused back on the lessons, trying to ignore the niggling feeling of dread and instead turning her fear into fuel for studying. She took all of the notes the teacher had assigned and then began reading on her own through the next few chapters of the Herbology book. She tried to file away the leaves and stems and berries detailed within into the right mental folders, but found herself blocked once again by her worries, an invisible wall between her eyes and her mind absorbing the information. Huffing, she began to peer around the room at her fellow students, wondering if any of them were wrestling with the same thoughts. They didn't seem to be; they all - more or less - had their heads in their books. Kibeth signed and resigned herself to listening dully to the professor's monologue.

* * *

After the class, as Kibeth was packing up her belongings in her satchel and reading her mind to attempt to intake the course in history she would have next, she was approached by a young colt. He was overly large for his age - Kibeth wouldn't have guessed he was the same year as she, except that he'd been in the class - but looked rather shy. When he approached, he seemed to hide his eyes behind his voluptuous, if dingy-looking, light gray hair. He pawed at the ground with a single sterling hoof and then began to stutter.

"M-m-m-myshna, and g-greetings.. I'm... S-s-s-s-snow... Snowflake," he finally spat out, backing a step or two away from her for fear his stuttering was becoming annoying already. Kibeth, unabashed, shrugged, then bowed her head a moment to return, "Myshna and greetings, my name is Kibeth. Did you... need something...?"

"I-i saw you... w-w-when the an-n-nouncement was m-m-made..." he started up again, and Kibeth tried to suppress her irritation at how long it might possibly take to listen to the shy flutter colt's entire admission.

"Y-you looked... ups... ups... upset. D-d-d-did you w-w-wanna talk 'bout it, m-m-maybe in the c-c-c-cafeteria..?"

Kibeth wasn't quite yet at the age where she was considering young stallions as something else. It sounded different from the typical play-date - she was more interested in studying than she was the typical games of the typical foals, wrapped up in their jump-rope and hop-scotch, tiddleywinks and marbles - and the colt, however irritating his speech impediment may have been, seemed sincere. His tail started to switch nervously behind him as he awaited an answer, and ever-so-slowly he looked up from behind his mane to peer at her. Their eyes met, and Kibeth felt her heart well up with the sudden urge to take him up on his offer.

"Yes, I would like to go to the cafeteria... if you don't mind me studying a little," she motioned to her satchel.

"N-no, of course not!" Snowflake stammered nearly immediately, suddenly clearly excited that she'd decided to go, "I c-c-c-could p-p-probably use a little help studying, m-m-myself, anyway," and he chuckled rather loudly, his capacity to laugh thankfully unhindered by the stuttering.

As the two began to meander down the hallway, Kibeth walking a bit more quickly to keep up with the somewhat faster pace Snowflake was able to keep with his large hooves and great, long stride, Kibeth did most of the talking. She explained to Snowflake about how she knew Regulus, who was like an uncle to her, and how she was worried she might never see him again. Snowflake simply nodded softly, refraining from interrupting her, and inserting an "oh" or "mmhm," where appropriate, until the two arrived at the cafeteria. Without a word, they both worked their way through the lunch line, picking out their favorites and generally avoiding the vegetables, until they finally made their way through and took a seat at one of the cafeteria tables.

"I w-w-w-wouldn't worry t-t-too much about it," Snowflake offered the comfort and then bit into a banana, peel and all, and chewed thoughtfully. When he swallowed - a great lump traveling down his throat, for he hadn't finished chewing before realizing he should say more - he added, "I'm s-s-sure the Heads get t-t-to see others occasionally... a c-c-couple of them have f-f-families, after all."

Kibeth knew nothing of the Heads' family lives. She appreciated his attempts to comfort her, though, and smiled congenially as she pulled some of the books from her satchel, to set alongside her lunch tray. She flipped open the book on Herbology, and read a few sentences while she took a bite of her food.

"If... if... if you d-don't mind me asking, h-h-have you al-al... always had th-those scars?" Snowflake suddenly piped up, his stuttering clearly part temerity. He turned his head aside and blushed, knowing he'd been forward, but he shook his mane out and, as it parted over his upturned brow, a series of hide-colored, dimpled pock-marks could be seen dotted all along the base of his mane.

"I h-had a s-s-s-serious s-sickness, when I w-w-was born. It m-made m-m-my hair all fall out. M-my m-m-mum w-went out and b-b-bought me a w-wig!" he chuckled, and blushed again.

Kibeth had looked startled, worried, like a doe in a panther's gaze when he'd first asked the question, but she seemed to consider as he showed her his own scars, and now she stared at him with an incredulous look and pursed lips. She finished the bite of a muffin she had left over.

"Alile says I was sick when I was born, too. They took me to the Magician to have me healed, but... something went wrong..." Even though she'd prepared herself to tell the story, she couldn't look at him as she did it; she stared down at the table, mutely, for a moment.

"I just wish people would stop asking about them because I'm tired of telling a depressing story," she finally stated with conviction, nearly standing from her seat but not talking too loudly; she didn't want the whole cafeteria to hear her complain about the concern some of the present ponies may have expressed.

"Y-you could... w-w-wear s-some robes...?" Snowflake offered helpfully, then took a giant - almost complete - bite of his corn-muffin.

"It gets too warm in the tower as-is..."

"You c-c-could p-put some makeup on it...?"

"Do they have that kind of makeup?" Kibeth cocked her head, surprised.

"Sh-sh-shouldn't y-you know that k-k-kind of s-stuff...?" Snowflake turned an even deeper rose than before.

Both of them began to laugh together, wings fluttering and legs flailing, thankfully short of upsetting their food trays.

Then, Kibeth remembered her History class would be coming up soon. She hadn't realized how quickly time could pass just by sitting around and chatting. Quickly, she finished off what she could of her food, slapped her Herbology book closed and stuffed the books she'd removed back in her satchel, and deposited her leftovers and cafeteria tray at the trash can. She returned to sit with Snowflake for another moment.

"Thanks... for talking with me today," Kibeth said quietly.

"S-s-sure, any... any time," Snowflake returned, quickly and sincerely. "Y-you know wh-wh-where to f-find me."

He smiled and waved at her with his hoof, his mass of mane still hiding his eyes. Kibeth bowed slightly to him as she stood, "Myshna, and good day. May Am'hatai's eyes watch over you..."

Kibeth turned on her heel and ran off through the lunch doors, leaving Snowflake simply watching after her, part dumbstruck, part saddened, to finish his meal.

* * *

"What do you think of tattoos, Alile?" Kibeth was just finishing the last of their sit-down dinner, scooping the last bits of mashed potatoes eagerly into her mouth and swallowing before piping up with the interesting question. Alile turned from his place at their newly-installed dish-basin to look over his shoulder at her. Her ears were perked and forward-facing and she looked determined to get an honest answer out of him. Alile hadn't expected such a question so soon in her life; she was only a couple of years into her schooling, and usually it took several years of disenfranchisement with the tower society to request to feel more unique by permanently tattooing oneself. Alile had never seen the appeal.

"They're... all right... for ponies of an appropriate age," he finished sternly as he dropped the last of the dishes, including hers, into the basin to soak. He'd turned his back to Kibeth too far to see her crestfallen face.

"Why do you ask? You're... not thinking about getting one...?" He asked, deciding to simply get it out in the open since Kibeth didn't seem to be enquiring further.

"Well..." Kibeth started, sounding uncertain. Alile turned to face her.

"Do you think they make makeup that could cover my scars?" She asked in a more subdued voice, sounding certain he would answer 'no', and looking defeated.

Alile felt his heart tighten a little. He had already explained several things to Kibeth in her sort life... that she was an orphan, that she had been "sick" as a child, that a Magician's spell had gone wrong and scarred her. He hadn't told her it had killed the Magician and dearly hoped no one would make the connection as Kibeth grew. Even though he'd told her these things, it didn't fix them... and of course Kibeth would want to be like all of the other colts and fillies.

"You're not being bullied, are you?" Alile asked, coming close to her.

"No, no, it's not like that," Kibeth suddenly wished she hadn't brought the subject up. She got frustrated and her brow furrowed. Alile backed off a little. They sat in silence for a few moments, while Alile allowed the cogs in his mind to turn until they finally squealed to a halt and into his brain popped the answer: she hoped to cover her scars with tattoos. Alile's own brow furrowed in their still-shared silence and he considered... he wasn't certain the tattooists would let someone so young get a tattoo, but perhaps they could make an exception. Two parts of him wrestled in the pit of his stomach, one crying that it would only be a negligent parent that would allow their foal to be tattooed, and the other shouting that it was clearly something Kibeth wanted, and if it would improve her life, he should consider it.

"Wouldn't... wouldn't getting a tattoo just make ponies ask about the tattoo, instead?" Alile broached the possibility as casually as possible, not wanting to sound patronizing. Despite her age, Kibeth seemed to consider this carefully.

"Anything so they won't ask about the scars," she finally surmised. Alile looked incredulous.

"Well, tattoos are permanent. I really think that you should give this some time and think it over. If you're still interested in them when you advance to the next level of schooling, we'll call the tattooist and get you an appointment." Alile desperately hoped she would change her mind before then, but if she didn't... well, that was the type of conviction of hers that he wouldn't want to butt up against, anyway. Time was a good way of telling, either way, and Kibeth visibly brightened.

"Really? For reals?" she asked, her eyes wide and twinkling with childish hope. Alile chuckled and nodded assuredly, and Kibeth clapped and squealed, then began to dance around the mostly-emptied dinner table, twirling and flailing her legs only somewhat-gracefully before twirling into the den area and collapsing in a heap of uncoordinated legs, frantically fluttering wings, mussed mane and tattered tail.

Alile just laughed and shook his head, working his way back to the dish-basin to clean. He spent the night reassuring himself that he'd made the right choice by watching Kibeth's newly-improved mood. Maybe he'd get the hang of being parent eventually...

* * *

As with many agreements that concern the future, the time seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Alile could feel his mind reeling as Kibeth approached him, now, that same childish but hopeful gleam in her eye, and before she could even open her mouth, he knew what she was going to ask.

Kibeth had spent the last several years rising to the head of her class. She had a clear thirst for knowledge that few other ponies could match, and while they were in the cafeteria blowing bubbles in their milk, or in the garden enjoying a sunny day, or even sitting around in their rooms playing games rented from the library... Kibeth was always busy studying. She didn't seem to see the studying as a chore as so many other foals did. She took to learning like books were the air she needed to breathe, and she was even beginning to ask questions about vocabulary words that Alile himself couldn't answer. It had been a while since he'd been through a class on the Common speech, let alone one on the differences between ponies of the tower, and other societies.

As she'd grown, she'd also insisted on taking on ever-more classes. She was in two more classes a day than her fellow classmates, and had managed to cram a whopping six extra classes a year into her schedule. Alile sometimes worried she was overworking herself... until he saw the happiness that shone like the sun even through the clouds of exhaustion or confusion that occasionally took up residence in her eyes, when she had been working for a while or on particularly difficult homework.

There were several downsides to her excessive studying that Alile tried not to concern himself with. Despite being a relatively friendly pony - he thought - Kibeth didn't seem to make too many friends. She had a few acquaintances, but the only pony she seemed to spend any length of time with was a shy colt named Snowflake. There was nothing wrong with Snowflake - he was a polite colt, if a bit shy, and with a speech impediment it seemed - but Alile worried that she wasn't interacting enough with her peers sometimes. Even though Snowflake came over to visit - or she went to his family's housing - quite frequently, the two never seemed to develop anything more than a platonic relationship and, more often than not, Kibeth brought him over simply to spend the time studying, with their noses in even more books.

The other issue was that Kibeth was quickly running out of content in Zith-lynd and becoming accustomed to asking more and more questions about the "outside world". Things like Geography and History did teach a small amount about the cities outside of their own, and even about the islands beyond the horizon from the isle they called their home... but as the distance grew away from the island, the information became more and more hazy. Kibeth began sneaking into the Library at odd hours and reading as much as she could... something about the world beyond the castle intrigued her. He had seen young fillies and colts go through phases where they longed to go beyond the tower's walls, but usually the Third Year Field Trip took care of that ambition.

To the contrary, Kibeth's Third Year Field Trip into the desert, while harrowing, served only to make her need more prominent. Five days in the broiling sun of the midday desert, and the chilling, near-freezing nights... days spent drinking only sparingly from their canteens - one foal's had sprung a leak mid-trip and they ended up having to share some resources - for there were no bodies of water in sight... days only spotting a few bits of vegetation, not nearly enough for even one pony to subsist on, let alone the great group of thirty or forty foals they'd brought with them... one night spent huddling in a cave, after the scout had alerted them to a group of marauders headed in their direction, and trying to quiet the baby ponies as the marauder's hoofbeats could be heard echoing down through the entrance, keeping all of the ponies awake and in maddening silence for too many hours to rest... not even the guarantee that there were hundreds of miles of sand and travel just like it before she could reach another city, let alone another island altogether... none of it seemed to faze her, and when she returned, sun-burnt, knotty-maned, exhausted, with tired wing muscles and sand in crevices she wasn't sure she could ever remove it from... all she could tell Alile was that, one day, she was going to cross that desert herself.

It was a silly thought to entertain, but Alile did absently wonder if, because her blood had come from outside the tower, it somehow cried to leave. Most of the ponies living in the tower today were either refugees or had been born there; he knew of no ponies that had been brought to the tower against their will, as he sometimes considered Kibeth to have been. In any case, he made her promise she would never attempt to leave the tower, especially not alone, and she seemed satisfied to agree to the promise.. she was eager, not stupid.

More than ever, though, the Third Year Field Trip had shown her she wanted to choose her magic. On the field trip had been several teachers' assistants, all of whom possessed any number of useful magical abilities. They'd of course brought a pony who was capable of making rain clouds press in and deliver fresh water, if necessary. There had been a pony with wind magic, who patiently dusted the wind off the children when they were done trekking for the day, and whom had even protected them from a sudden dust-devil, a type of frenzied tornado that frequently tended to pop up, randomly, across the deserts. One of the ponies, a flying pony, had been able to make her shadow larger than its normal size for long periods of time, and had spent much of the trip shielding the young colts and fillies from the sun's harmful rays. Lastly was a unicorn who possessed some powerful earth magic. Kibeth had not seen her magic in action; she had had to find a spare moment to quietly question another foal, who explained that particular professor had the ability to move whole plots of land. Apparently the ground swallowed them up and spit them back up wherever she demanded (though only places she could conjure in her mind). If there was a true emergency, the foal explained, that particular professor was entrusted with land-transporting the entire group of foals to safety. Kibeth had spent the rest of the trip almost hoping they would encounter some emergency that would call for the transport... she desperately wanted to know more about it, like if it was dark, if the ponies would choke on mud or get dirty... if it could really be done at all.

She had come back to the tower with all sorts of questions for Alile... questions she would have had answered if Alile had bothered to enter her into a magic class, but thusfar she had only been taught the basics... which weren't much. She asked Alile what sort of magic he thought she had. If ponies with water magic could talk to seahorses. If ponies with wind magic could use the wind to travel underwater. If ponies with earth magic could just make the earth swallow and bury other ponies. Some of her questions turned violent, and Alile patiently explained that, while magic COULD be used for evil things and to hurt other ponies, it was generally acknowledged that it ought only to be used for the betterment of ponies' lives. He hoped she understood this lesson, because it was one of the many necessary to take courses in magic. If she didn't accept it now... the courses would pummel it into her, or reject her for her lack of discipline.

They were at home. Alile had finished cleaning and sat down to read a book when Kibeth practically knocked down the door to get through. She was panting, chest heaving from the exertion of climbing so many flights of stairs at once... she was red-faced, even, one of the few times she showed any color at all. She tugged her satchel quickly off her back and it fell with a loud thunk on the table; Alile lost his place in the book as it snapped shut, and he heaved a sigh. Kibeth just smiled, a giant smile he'd never seen her even attempt before, and her eyes seemed to be practically glowing like red-hot coals from the inside, all seemingly with absolute joy. She ripped open the satchel's flap and tore out a sheaf of papers, and was beside him in an instant.

That was when he knew... she had brought home the forms to sign her up for her second-year classes. The forms gave general descriptions of the courses allowed to her level of schooling, their schedules and teachers, requirements, and a permission signature for each course. He could already see sloppy but colorful marks on the paper; she'd taken a crayon and drawn dots, hearts, and stars next to various classes, he assumed rankings of how interested she was in them. She was still speechless, but it looked like she would soon burst at the seams with enthusiasm if she didn't let it come out in hot air.

"Second year class forms..." he said, dully...

"SECOND YEAR CLASS FORMS" she shrieked, and then the energy bubble within her burst and sent her zipping in circles around their dining room table, her wings aflutter and thrusting her forward even with little use of her legs. She seemed to have trouble around the corners of the table and soon spun out of control, wheeling off into their living room where, thankfully, there was little else than a bunch of comfortable beanbag-pillows for lazing around. She flopped comfortably on one and began to giggle and flail her legs wildly as though suffering from some involuntary muscle spasms. Alile just watched, his eyes wide and mind wavering between awe and terror. If this was how she would be tearing through their room regularly... he would have to inform their neighbors. All of them, upstairs and down. He heaved another sigh and re-shelved his book.

"The stars are the ones I really want to take," she suddenly narrated after a gasp of air; she'd been muffling her screams in the beanbag, and lifting her now-redder face revealed she'd mussed her bangs into fluff. Alile had barely begun looking closely at the classes. He knew she was excited, but he was hoping to give a few days' consideration. The next set of courses didn't begin for a month, so he had time to decide what to sign her up for. Well, he might as well at least give them a look. He noticed Kibeth was peeking over the rim of a chair at him expectantly, as though he would simply sign off on the classes and give the sheets back to her within the minute.

"Don't you have some studying to do? Surely the teachers didn't send you home empty-hooved...?"

Kibeth's gleeful, silly grin instantly turned to a dour, thunderstormy, exaggerated frown. She sunk into the beanbag chair and muttered, "Can't I have a little time to rest first..." as though her theatrics moments before hadn't shown she had plenty of energy to spare.

"If you're tired, take a rest; if not, I'm afraid you need to start on that coursework, or you certainly won't be advancing," he shuffled the sheaf of papers with authority, and heard her whine appropriately behind him. Soon she sluggishly pulled herself across the room to sulkily grab up her satchel and slide back across, where she turned her back to him and stuck her nose morosely in a book.

Shaking his head, Alile turned back to the table, where he carefully laid out the sheets and sheets of form, all that would fit in front of him at a time. It soon became apparent Kibeth had selected far more courses than the head professors would allow her at any time, let alone more than she would even be able to fit into the allotted school time. There were only so many hours in a day... Alile thought her math class should have been helping with that, but surely it was just the result of an active child's wishful imagination. She had clearly hoped he would be making the choices for her.

Alile stifled a laugh as he came across the few pages that comprised the core courses for the students. Kibeth had circled all of the Common speech courses, even the ones with overlapping lessons, and even circled some of the foreign speech courses, of which she was only supposed to take one. The scientific courses, such as the physical theories, chemistry and alchemy, she had drawn neat lines through. Alile knew she had a requirement for at least one of them and rolled his eyes; he really didn't want to have to choose for her. The students were all supposed to have well-rounded educations, and they couldn't simply choose to skip such prerequisites. Similarly, Kibeth had crossed out most of the math courses available. Alile would really need to either speak to her about this aversion to the subjects or get a professor to speak to her for him. The professor would probably know how best to defend their profession, he supposed.

The pages for magical courses were covered in hearts, stars, and dots; not a magic class was left unmarked, and even the dark arts got several question marks - "?" - as though she was considering if she could fit them into the schedule, nevermind that taking all of the magical courses at once would take up her entire day and more. There were courses for every element, informative as well as demonstrative, and several disciplines for each such as offensive, defensive, and miscellaneous types of magic. Alile wasn't certain Kibeth was even ready for the offensive courses; it was generally accepted ponies should learn defense and miscellaneous (generally useful) magic and begin to specialize in their element before ever learning offensive spells. Surely, though, he could at least sign her up for some of the informative courses. The teachers might question it, but he was certain he could get Dream Keeper to help them approve her for classes like she had in the past. Dream Keeper had been quite the boon to Kibeth's ever-growing love of knowledge.

"So, when can I get my tattoo?" Kibeth piped up, startling Alile out of his consideration and similarly stunning him. He hadn't forgotten about their agreement... but, of course, he had hoped she had. He wasn't sure what had prompted her to remember. It had been several months hence the 'pact' had been made and it hadn't been brought up a single time, since... not by her and certainly not by him. He turned to look sternly in her direction. She had sat up and begun to read her coursework more seriously, but had clearly paused to ask him the question and was now waiting expectantly despite what he hoped was a convincing crotchety glare.

"Are you sure you still want it?" he asked, hoping maybe if he asked the simple question she would suddenly think it over and decide against it. He was still against a tattoo for someone as young as she was, even though she was getting older by the moment, he acknowledged.

"Of course I am."

"It's permanent..."

"I know it is."

"There's a chance it could be painful..."

"I know..." Kibeth suddenly sounded apprehensive... but only as apprehensive as she should have sounded, and certainly not enough to waver in her choice.

Alile peered at her for another moment before shrugging his shoulders.

"I'll need to find the tattooist and make sure you can even get one. We'll make an appointment after that..."

"You haven't even done that yet, Alile?!" Kibeth gasped. She had assumed he'd looked into it by now; she would clearly be disappointed if it turned out she'd waited all of this time and couldn't get one. In retrospect, Alile figured, he probably should have looked into it; it would have hurt her less if she had been denied, and he could have spared himself the heartburn of waiting. He'd just wanted to deny the conversation had happened at all. Ah well, he thought, hindsight being what it was...

"I'll ask about it tomorrow, I promise," he promised. He wasn't certain where he would find the time, but he would do it, knowing it meant that much to her. He'd agreed, after all. And there was a good chance the tattooist would say 'no'... right? He tried to assure himself of this.

Kibeth glared incredulously at him, and he pursed his lips and nodded sincerely, if overacting a bit.

"Finish your homework," he chuckled, and waved dismissively at her. She grumped and turned back to her books, and Alile turned back to a long night of agonizing over coursework and visiting the tattooist the next day.


	23. Chapter 23 - The Magic

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Twenty-Three - The Magic_

Alile had told her to meet him in the garden after her third course of the day, and he would let her know if she could get her tattoos. Kibeth pushed her way through the stained glass doors, looking only passingly at the designs inlaid there, and entered the garden fully expecting to see Alile sitting there, waiting patiently for her. Instead, it seemed the garden was empty... what of it she could immediately see, in any case. She decided to take a look around, in case he was hiding or just wandering around the corner. Probably stealing fruit, she thought idly to herself.

It was then that she heard some humming. It definitely wasn't Alile, she could tell from the tone of it; it sounded much more feminine than he could produce. She peeked around the particularly tall bush of roses she had sidled up against and caught a glimpse of a small, lithe flutterpony mare... Mistblossom. She had heard about the garden's owner but rarely seen her. She assumed the mare was always busy elsewhere, even though Kibeth had heard rumors the mare had a bed within the garden somewhere, and that she refused to enter the tower proper except for necessities and emergencies.

Kibeth wondered if she had something to hide, but she looked as lovely as any pony or lovelier, no tics or awkwardness or strange deformities, and she had never heard anything but nice stories about the mare. Intrigued, she decided to approach. At first, she simply cleared her throat, hoping not to startle the mare as she peeked out from around the bush and then came trotting down the quartz-cobbled pathway.

"Myshna, my name is Kibeth," she offered quickly, as the mare turned with wide eyes, and then suddenly eased as she saw it was just a child approaching her.

"Myshna and greetings, Kibeth, my name is Mistblossom. Welcome to the garden," she fluttered to the other side of her seed cart and picked up a watering can; watered a nearby gathering of tulips, then replaced the can, and continued, "are you visiting to look around, or waiting for someone...?"

"I'm waiting for Alile," Kibeth admitted, then started to look around again, wondering if she knew he'd shown up and where he was, or if he had entered while they were discussing; she saw nothing and turned back, and Mistblossom was smiling sympathetically.

"I haven't seen an Alile," Mistblossom offered apologetically, "but I'd be happy to wait with you until he comes. Or you can look around on your own, just be wary of the bees... they're active today."

Kibeth nodded, thankful for the advice, and looked as though she were about to go off on her own, but then turned back to Mistblossom.

"Can you... teach me some stuff about the flowers?" she asked, a little uncertainly. Mistblossom just grinned as though the sun had come out from behind the clouds.

"I would love to. What sort of Herbology and Botany courses have you taken...?" she asked, perkily, her wings suddenly all a flutter.

As Kibeth explained the courses she had been in, Mistblossom began to lead her around the garden to supplement her knowledge. Though she rarely went into the tower, the professors who taught the various courses about plants frequently came to her for advice. She offered them new information for their courses at the beginning of each year or so, and any supplemental knowledge, she kept tucked away in a journal in her seed cart. Kibeth was even given some information from higher-level courses, what of it she was able to understand given her somewhat limited knowledge of the actual life and growing cycles of plants, and in turn Mistblossom was given an extremely attentive audience. The two wandered the garden together, side-by-side, for quite some time.

* * *

Alile thankfully did manage to convince the Colonel of his particular unit to allow him early leave from his defensive training for the afternoon. He scrambled down the flights of stairs to get to the level of the tower devoted to the arts, where the tattooist's studio resided. He hoped he would be catching the pony before he got off to lunch; it was nearly the lunch hour, and some of the ponies from various levels had tendencies to go late or early. He could only hope he caught the pony.

Thankfully, he noticed the stallion locking up the door to his studio just as he turned the corner on the hallway. "Wait-!" he called, nearly breathless, before racing down the hallway and scrambling to a near-collisional halt right in front of the large dragonpony, who did not look entirely enthused by the intrusion on what was now his free time.

"Y-you're... the tattooist... right?" Alile wheezed, not wanting to waste a perturbed dragonpony's time.

"Yes," he gruffly responded, and stood up straighter, seeing the stranger wasn't just there to bother him.

"My daughter... is looking to get a tattoo. She's only a young pony... but she wants to cover her scars... I told her I would ask if you would tattoo a young pony, anyway."

The dragon's eyebrow ridge raised curiously as Alile asked, and Alile wondered if he was going to get the response he feared most... that he was a terrible parent for ever having asked such a question, how dare he, and that Kibeth was no longer going to be his to look after. The dragon's tail twitched and wove around behind him like its own, separate, bloodthirsty snake-appendage, as he seemed to consider.

"Well, I certainly wouldn't mind doing a young pony," the dragonpony mused. Alile heaved a sigh even though he felt conflicted; he was glad Kibeth would be able to get the tattoo... or was he? He didn't really want her getting one, but he supposed a part of him was still happy... for her. Somehow.

But the dragonpony had seemed to pause, and now it was Alile's turn to raise an eyebrow. "What's the matter?"

"... well, it's pretty near impossible to tattoo scarred skin. It just won't accept the ink. If you're looking to cover a scar, traditional tattooing isn't for you..."

Alile's face fell a bit. He thought about this a moment before responding, because the dragonpony seemed to still be standing there, pondering something.

"You said 'traditional tattooing'...?"

"Yes," the dragonpony admitted, "there's also magical tattooing. But... it's riskier, and not nearly as detailed. You... don't really even get to choose the tattoo, so much as it sort of... chooses you."

Alile raised a brow at this. He obviously had an immediate dislike of the idea because of Kibeth's history... if magic had gotten her into the mess she was asking for a tattoo to relieve, certainly she wouldn't want magic to be a part of the "cure". It made little sense to be subjecting her to risky procedures again just to cover what risky procedures had created. But, then, it was Kibeth's choice, he supposed. He worried.

"Would you... recommend doing a magical tattoo... on a foal...?"

"I've never heard of anyone dying from getting one," the dragon attempted to be helpful, but just shrugged his shoulders, "I've never had a foal ask for one, myself."

Alile felt a little more at ease about the procedure but asked the tattooist a few more questions, like how long it might take, how long she could expect to need to rest afterward, how permanent such a tattoo might be, and so on. He held the tattooist up for almost an hour with the questions before the dragonpony seemed to grumpily stomp off in the direction of the stairs that would likely be taking him to the cafeteria. Even if Alile felt no more comforted by Kibeth's choice to get a tattoo, he at least felt more knowledgeable. With a lump of uncertainty lodged firmly in his throat, he made his way to the same stairs, making certain to keep a healthy distance between himself and the likely annoyed dragonpony.

* * *

Mistblossom and Kibeth had taken a seat on one of the many benches in the garden; this one was particularly near a large patch of baby's breath, and Mistblossom liked to refer to the area as the one with "snow". Kibeth had heard of - but never seen - snow, though there was a rumor that the water professor had recently gained an apprentice that had mastered the technique of creating it, and soon little ponies might be able to see and enjoy it... if the apprentice could only make it its natural white and not the unnatural, flourescent orange it seemed to be made in currently.

Kibeth had begun eyeing the nearby peach tree with increasingly quick and lengthy glances, and Mistblossom had noted the filly's hungrily-growling stomach several times throughout their wandering through the garden. She suspected the filly was missing a meal to be waiting for Alile, but it was important to her, clearly.

"They look good, don't they," Mistblossom finally highlighted the filly's preoccupation.

"Oh, um, yes," Kibeth seemed embarrassed to have it pointed out, "there's one in particular."

"Oh? Which one?" Mistblossom turned; the tree was just barely out of the range of providing them shade, not too far away, and she could see most of the peaches on it very clearly.

"The one over there, just to the left of that one branch," Kibeth motioned. She felt her mind become overridden with the sensations of a peach; she felt the juice pooling on her tongue and around her teeth, and the flesh disintegrating into bursts of flavor as she bit down on the soft pillows of fruit, the cloying sweet-tart smell of peach juice and earthy smell of the fuzzy skin, which shredded easily into velvety flecks before she swallowed. She felt a warm sensation overtake her; she was too trained on the peach to really notice her peripheral vision dimming.

Mistblossom finally spotted the ripe peach she supposed Kibeth had her eye on. It did look to have just the right color to its skin, and it was certainly plump. She turned back to Kibeth with a smile as she pulled herself to her hooves, ready to flutter over and pluck the fruit for the foal... but she saw Kibeth's intense countenance and cocked her head in momentary confusion. She turned to look back at the peach. It seemed to be wiggling on its branch as if a soft wind were passing through and rattling the leaves. Mistblossom twitched an ear; she felt and heard no wind. Still, the peach wriggled, jittered almost, before suddenly popping free of its perch.

The peach hovered in midair for only three feet or so - far enough to see it seemed a deliberate, straight, and completely unnatural path of flight - before falling, like a rock, directly vertically and thunking on the ground, likely bruising it. Kibeth gasped, as though she hadn't taken a breath in several moments. Mistblossom's was a gasp of surprise. The peach had moved on its own; she turned to Kibeth, who suddenly almost looked ashamed of herself. She looked down at the bench she was sitting on with Mistblossom instead, her ears turned back and with her shoulders in a clearly closed-off, hunched position.

Seeing the foal was in no mood to be going to retrieve the peach she'd clearly spent some energy on, and she'd already stood up, Mistblossom carefully lifted herself into the air and silently retrieved the fruit. It had taken the fall rather well, bruising slightly on one side but refusing to break and looking otherwise whole, uneaten by any worm and clearly as ripe as it had looked from afar. She carefully brought it back and laid it on the bench.

"You should eat it, I bet it's delicious."

Kibeth shook her head slowly, then turned to look away; she looked as though she'd been punished, though nothing had been said or done yet. Confused, but hoping to help the filly feel better and open up, she took a small bite of the peach. It was delicious, even though she'd had quite a fill of eating peaches from the day she'd picked them a week past. "Mmmm!" she exclaimed, sincerely, but with clear direction at Kibeth.

Looking dour, but clearly hungry, Kibeth turned her head and sniffed at the peach. The opened skin released the heavy scent of peach juice she recalled from her intense feelings a moment previous, and she gingerly reached down and bit into the peach's flesh. Munching and swallowing, she went for another bite and another until she was finished, leaving only a flesh-covered pit. She looked ready to knock this into the garden but Mistblossom stopped her; she instead transferred the pit to her seed cart, where she would be able to clean it and ready it for a planting either in the up-tower greenhouse, or for sale in the town market the tower occasionally sent ponies to sell and trade in.

"So... that's not the first time you've moved something, is it..." Mistblossom gently asked, her voice sincerely a mix of encouraging and concerned, soothing, with no hint of a reprimand, discipline, or punishment. Kibeth still looked conflicted... she was clearly a hard filly to convince of things sometimes. Mistblossom scooted closer to her on the bench and put one foreleg around the filly's shoulders, trying to make the conversation a little more intimate and hopefully easier to open up into.

"No," Kibeth finally admitted. Mistblossom was silent, expectant, her open eyes clearly accepting.

"It's only been a couple of times, before," Kibeth started, finally, looking suddenly relieved to be saying it at all, "When I was mad or sad or even happy. I broke a plate. But I was right next to it; I told Alile I dropped it, once. And one time, I was happy I finished making a clay pot, except it flew up and hit the ceiling... and the professor said I threw it up there. I... don't like it," she sounded pained, then suddenly hopeful, "Do you know if I could make it stop?"

"Did you ask Alile about this?" Mistblossom was suddenly a little uncomfortable. The filly really ought to be discussing such a subject with her father... if Alile was that, being that she called him by name. She was pretty certain Kibeth was an orphan of some sort - the tower occasionally had them - and that Alile, as her guardian, was the one she should be asking.

"He gets really worried when I ask him things, I don't want to ask him and worry him more," Kibeth muttered, sounding immediately defeated.

Now Mistblossom looked worried. Kibeth immediately looked upset in return and Mistblossom immediately returned to looking supportive.

"It's all right, I can help you..." she stopped a moment as she heard the familiar whoosh of the stained glass doors opening and the faint clop-clop-clop of hooves winding their way down the paths in search of someone. It took a moment, but soon Kibeth heard, too, and just as she did, the familiar voice called out across the garden, "Kibeth?"

"Over here, Alile!" Kibeth leapt to her hooves on the bench and suddenly fluttered up into the air, hoping to get a better view of Alile from up high. Sure enough, he had started to walk down the wrong path; Kibeth whistled and got his attention, and he quickly wound his way back, down the correct path, and found himself at the bench they'd been sharing amongst the baby's breath.

Forgetting her upset feelings from moments before, Kibeth slowly hovered down to the bench and looked up at Alile expectantly, hopefully, just knowing he would have the answer she wanted.

"Well, it's mixed news," he started.

"The tattooist says a regular tattoo wouldn't work... we would need to get you a magical tattoo."

"Oh, a magical tattoo?!" Kibeth blurted out loudly, clearly excited at the prospect, her little wings buzzing with energy. Alile chuckled, but shook his head apologetically.

"The tattooist says the magical tattoos are... unpredictable. He could cover your scars, but... you wouldn't get to pick what the tattoo looked like."

"What?" Kibeth looked shocked; this wasn't something she had anticipated, as she'd been under the impression the tattooists could tattoo anything any pony wanted, just about anywhere.

"That's the issue, if you want to have the scars covered, I'm afraid," Alile sighed, noticing this didn't seem like the ideal solution to Kibeth.

"Magical tattoos? Are you sure?" Mistblossom suddenly said, somewhat interrupting them. She didn't necessarily want to mess around in their family affairs, but the situation seemed like a somewhat distressing one for both Kibeth and Alile and she hoped to be able to moderate it somewhat. She asked the question of Kibeth.

"Yes, yes... anything to cover them. It couldn't be worse than the scars, whatever it is," she eagerly responded, with much nodding of her head.

There was a stunned silence as the ponies looked around to each other. Kibeth didn't let it stand for long; she stomped a hoof on the ground below, and whinnied brashly, "You said I could!"

Alile gulped, and then deflated, his head hanging low in admission of guilt. Mistblossom just shook her head, looking at once a bit perplexed and completely sympathetic to Alile's plight. She'd never had children of her own, but she could certainly understand the difficulty of parenting... it was part of why she'd decided against it. It must have been exceptionally hard for Alile, with Kibeth being more of an obligation than a family member.

"I'm sure it will be all right," she offered reassuringly, "Whomever the Seven have hired as a tattooist will certainly be well-educated and should be able to get it done for you."

"I bet you'll look stunning the next time I see you," she grinned as she leaned over to give Kibeth a light hug with one foreleg. The little filly smiled back up to her and nodded excitedly.

"Don't you need to be getting to your next class?" Alile suddenly asked. Kibeth nodded solemnly, and picked up her satchel from where she'd laid it beside the bench they had been sitting at. She waved goodbye to Mistblossom, gave Alile a quick hug, and then galloped off down the pathways toward the door. Mistblossom heard it nearly slam behind her and winced; if it hadn't been for the soft bumpers to keep the doors from slamming, it could've been disastrous. That's what Zith-lynd got for expecting children to treat stained glass doors with respect.

"Thanks... for looking out for her, and for the help," Alile gave a small bow of appreciation to Mistblossom.

"Oh, it was nothing. Kibeth's a sweet little filly."

"Yes, she is..." Alile trailed off as he seemed to fall back into himself... then suddenly startle out of his reverie, "I need to get going. I promised to lead the evening run for the stealth squadron. Thanks again for looking out for her. Myshna, and a good evening to you," he twisted on his hooves and began to trot away. Mistblossom considered stopping him, but remembering Kibeth's words, decided to bring up her concern with another pony.

* * *

"Kibeth needs to be enrolled in special magic classes," she cheerfully twittered to Dream Keeper as she helped braid the Council member's mane. She hoped the unchanged tone of her voice would keep Dream Keeper from being suspicious about it, but apparently the mere mention of 'magic' put Dream Keeper on edge, for she seemed to flare up when it was mentioned. The Councilmember put the half of her honeydew melon she'd yet to eat down on their picnic blanket and turned, snapping her braid away from Mistblossom and mussing it, causing it to fall out.

"Oh stop it, stop it, I'll have to do it all over!" Mistblossom cried.

"You're not doing it anyway!" Dream Keeper replied, exasperated, as she gestured at the small parrot that had been assisting her. The parrot had phenomenally precise use of its beak and both of its legs, and between it and the pony, they were able to quickly braid most ponies' manes. Mistblossom had dreamed about getting a small monkey of some sort, but had been told that not only was the trade the sort you'd find in the Hidden Market, it was far too expensive for the Seven to attempt to afford just for the luxury of braided hair.

"What do you mean, 'Kibeth needs to be enrolled in special magic classes'? She hasn't even been enrolled in basic magic classes, she doesn't know what her skill is... it's Alile's job to decide what courses to put her in, not mine," clearly flustered, Dream Keeper tried to decide if she wanted the rest of her honeydew or if she was too irritated to eat it.

"I spoke with her earlier today. She says Alile's too busy worrying about other things to take care of this. And it's different, Dream... I saw her..." Mistblossom paused to look around warily.

"I saw her float a peach through the air. For a few feet, even," Mistblossom then recounted in hushed tones. Dream Keeper's brow furrowed incredulously, and she frowned.

"Is this true?" It was a silly question, Mistblossom had no reason to lie to her.

"She doesn't know what she's doing. She's afraid of it, and she needs control," Mistblossom practically begged. She remembered the sad, trapped feeling Kibeth seemed to have about her powers, despite how useful they could be and what some ponies might've given to have them.

"We... don't have a Twilight professor," Dream Keeper shook her head apologetically.

"What? I thought there was supposed to be a teacher for each element...?"

"We haven't had a teacher for the Twilight element for many years. The old Magician Indigaster used to step in and teach the few ponies who popped up with gifts, but he wasn't a permanent Professor, and he's been gone for some time... the Earth teacher has taken over the informative portion of the classes, but we haven't had a practicing professor since Indigaster died."

"What will you do with her, then?"

"I don't know, I'm trying to think," Dream Keeper's mind flooded with considerations. She immediately considered that she should tell the Seven. They would want to know. They had already asked her to keep a close eye on Kibeth for them, so they could have occasional updates about her progress fitting into Zith-lynd. Dream Keeper hadn't given them one of those reports in almost a year; they seemed to be satisfied with her integration.

She hoped this new update wouldn't change their minds. If she failed to get their approval to teach her the Twilight magics, they would never hire a Professor, and Kibeth's talent would go completely to waste... or, worse, manifest itself in destructive ways. Mistblossom said she had no control over it... if that meant one day she could cause the whole tower to crumble down, it was hopefully a consideration the Seven would have to take in.

"For now, she should probably just be enrolled in a general magic course... we'll get to the Twilight magic when we have the ability to. It will be up to the Seven," Dream finally concluded.

"What if they choose not to teach her?"

"That's just a consequence we have to expect and accept if it comes to be."

"What will Kibeth think?"

Dream Keeper sighed, "Probably nothing good, but there's nothing to be done, if so." The depressing thought made her stomach grumble... maybe she did want the rest of that honeydew, after all. She started to dig into it, but Mistblossom didn't seem satisfied and didn't return to braiding her hair.

"I worry about that filly, Dream," she admitted ruefully, "I think she needs some guidance. You can make sure this gets handled the best it can, right...?"

"As best it can," Dream Keeper promised, sighing, and feeling the heavy weight of responsibility for Kibeth being placed once more on her shoulders.


	24. Chapter 24 - The Tattoo

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Twenty-Four - The Tattoo_

It was the week of the Azuyanian Snow Festival when Kibeth decided she wanted to get her tattoo done. The Snow Festival was a relatively new celebration in the tower of Zith-lynd, the main reason being that they received no snow. The tradition had been imported from other lands where it had reigned as a season of celebration, giving, and togetherness, qualities the Seven wanted to embrace and share, so they had instituted it. The past few years, the Head Professors of Water and Sky had joined together to make a beautiful skating rink for all of the ponies to play on. It had taken up most of the floor in one of the great meeting halls and been a pain to clean up, but all of the ponies had enjoyed it so much, there had been a tower-wide agreement that it ought to be repeated. This year, the Head Professors were promising to up the ante with actual snow... possibly piles of it, for making snowballs, snowforts, snowponies, snowpony angels, anything one might think of.

As Kibeth passed the decorations on the walls, she began to get more and more excited. Everywhere seemed to be covered in fake icicles, snowflakes, and glittering fake snow. Icicles trimmed archways and door entrances, even some of the vaulted ceilings in some of the classrooms... snowflakes hung from thin, nearly-invisible threads at varying heights throughout the rooms to give the illusion of snowfall. Piles of cottony fake snow were attached to the baseboards and walls, banisters and railings, and some of the windowsills, to give the effect of a freshly-fallen blanket, as well. Everywhere looked enough like a winter wonderland that the work of the Head Professors was almost unnecessary; the Zith-lynd inhabitants had all of the snow they needed right here, and without the cold.

Alile said he would meet her at the tattooist's studio. Dream Keeper had said she would come, too, if it would make Kibeth feel more comfortable. Kibeth was actually more interested in showing off her new tattoo as soon as she got it to as many ponies as possible and would've invited the whole tower if she thought it would get the explanation of the tattoo over with, she thought as she trotted up the stairs, avoiding the glitter-covered railings. The only person Kibeth was uncertain about showing the new tattoo to was Snowflake. She didn't really know why, but when she imagined their meeting and tried to walk herself through the conversation as she often did, she felt uncomfortable about it. It would happen eventually, she thought to herself, and just kept climbing the stairways. She was almost there, since she had started so close, only a few floors below at one of her classes.

Kibeth's gray hide practically shuddered with anticipation as she approached the doorway to the artist studio hallways. A guard nodded anticipatorily to her, and pushed the doorway open to allow her through. He seemed to eye her incredulously despite his eagerness to give her passage. She guessed Alile had explained that she would be getting a tattoo to him... and that he didn't necessarily have a favorable impression of that.

The tattooist dragonpony was standing outside his studio's door, with Alile alongside, waiting for her. The dragonpony was a deep, near-charcoal black, with mid-gray hair streaked - likely artificially - with an eye-searing green. He was covered in all manner of tattoos, where he could get them; even his wingflaps were tattooed with all manner of symbols, some very large like words, but in a language she couldn't read. Some of his tattoos were colorful; when they were, it was generally green, and as close to the flourescent color in his mane as possible. He seemed to simply glow a faint green all over from all of the bright tattoos. He looked a bit angry at her approach, but Alile looked perfectly welcome and gestured toward the studio's door with his head.

"Myshna and greetings, my name is Kibeth," she recited rotely as she approached the dragonpony up close, her eyes widening at his size and gaze humbling considerably.

"You can call me Grazzt," he replied with a bit of a growl, his tail twitching behind him.

"Pardon me...?" Kibeth cocked her head, and attempted it, "Grasst?"

"Grazzt," the dragonpony corrected with a decidedly reptilian nasal noise.

"Mister Cipher," Alile offered Kibeth quietly, and Kibeth nodded affirmatively as she was led into the tattooist's studio.

The walls were covered in all manner of artwork, from beautiful scenes to dark ones, pictures of roses growing out of skulls and tigers bursting through ripped fabric, and frequently, well-dressed lady-ponies posing enticingly for the camera. There were large, oddly-shaped chairs lined up within the studio, about six of them, two lines of three back-to-back. They seemed to be positioned to allow comfort to a pony lying with their legs directly behind them, for the best reach to most of their bodies. Kibeth looked at them uncertainly. Next to one of them was a tray of tools, shining in the bright light of a particularly large orb hanging from a swinging, turn-able arm, so it could be moved for better lighting in all positions. The tattooist helped Kibeth up into the chair and she managed to find a regular sitting position that did not involve stretching out as though for an exam. The dragonpony seated himself with a grunt in a short, rolling chair next to hers, and spun toward his instruments.

Kibeth began to fidget on the oddly-shaped chair - as much fidgeting as she had room for - while the dragonpony quietly looked through his supplies. After a few distracting movements, the dragonpony's gaze moved to intercept the filly sternly as his wings flashed out from behind his back and his wing-claws pressed firmly on her shoulders, pressing her down into the seat. "Be still," he hissed, then went back to checking out his supplies. Now, his wing-claws seemed to want to help. They were three-fingered, and together they carefully bent down over his head, as though they had a mind of their own, and selected a shiny silver tool. The claws carefully overturned it between the two of them, passing it back and forth, dangling it a moment, rolling it around, and examining it, before carefully setting it back down on his sterile tray.

Then, his tail seemed to snake its way up the side of the tool-tray, slithering across the shiny surface and grasping at the same tool the wing-claws had just set down. The tail curled artfully around it, lifted it with a bit of difficulty - for the tool was thicker than the small end of the dragonpony's tail that had picked it up - and began to spin it around as though playfully entertaining itself out of its own boredom. The coup de grace came when the tail-appendage tossed the implement into the air... Kibeth gasped, certain the flimsy tail would be unable to catch the tool, especially since Grazzt's eyes were still scanning over all of the minute tools on his tray and were completely removed from the falling object... but the tail seemed to leap through the air and with a graceful move 'catch' the tool, and in another, swift move, deposit it on the tray in front of Grazzt, seemingly without him even seeing.

Kibeth giggled at the antics, and Grazzt immediately looked up and gave her a grumpy-looking scowl. "I need to get these instruments sorted. Do you know what color of tattoo you're interested in?"

"Blue!" Kibeth blurted out. Then, after a moment's more thought, "... a light blue, like a pastel, like the sky, or a bird's egg... like my satchel," she drug the pale blue satchel up from where she'd placed it next to the tattooing chair and flashed it at Grazzt, who gave it only a cursory glance. He lifted himself to his hooves and turned to busy himself at a half-open supply cabinet in the corner.

"Can Alile stay with me?" Kibeth asked, in the silence. Grazzt harrumphed.

"He needs to stay outside. Especially when the magic starts up; I've had the spells go bad before."

Kibeth looked a blend of pouty and uncertain. She was very capable of doing things on her own, without Alile's help, but the procedure seemed a bit scarier knowing Alile had to stay out in the hallway for his own safety.

"Ah, here it is," the dragonpony finally exclaimed, his tail thrashing behind him as he slammed the utility cabinet doors closed and sauntered back over to his work table. There, he gingerly placed a small pot of light blue ink. With the use of his wing-claws, tail, and sharp dragon's beak, he was able to use a syringe to suck up a small amount of the light blue ink, and inject it into the reservoir of the tattooing instrument. Kibeth watched this with wonder, being only slightly knowledgeable about what he was doing. Grazzt didn't seem to mind, and once he'd injected the ink, he pulled himself closer to Kibeth's chair.

"Time to clean you up; you tell me what sort of tattoo you want, while I work," the dragonpony produced a small, alcoholic-smelling square of fabric from behind himself and, with one wingclaw, began to pass it over Kibeth's body. It felt cool and wet, but when she glanced at her hide, she saw the liquid was evaporating as quickly as it seemed to clean her. She tried to get her mind off this and onto the design she wanted.

"Can you do... fancy knots?"

"Dara knots? Quaternaries? Triskelions?" Grazzt asked casually; he received no response, and noticed Kibeth didn't seem to understand what he was talking about. Suppressing an eyeroll, he replied, "Yes, I can do 'fancy knots.'"

He had finished cleaning her and now sat down in the spinning, rolling chair next to Kibeth's seat with a 'thump'. Out of nowhere, one of his wing-claws seemingly plucked a dark-colored marker. He immediately began outlining the design on her skin, making no movement to ask her what she thought or even interact with her... it seemed his attention just suddenly focused on the drawing and he was lost to the world. Kibeth tried not to giggle and startle him, because his tongue was sticking out from the side of his toothy maw as his brow furrowed with concentration. He drew a fancy knot that led up her back leg, dipped around a scar, and tied itself on her rump, before re-opening itself and sweeping gracefully across her side, toward her neck.

With a quick movement, he seemed to glide effortlessly around the chair she had been set on; in fact, his tail seemed to be pushing the rolling chair with practiced effort as he rolled around and faced the other side of her body, immediately beginning to draw the exact same knots he'd drawn on her other side. She watched, fascinated, as he imitated the same swoops and swells he'd just drawn on her other side near-perfectly... perfectly enough that Kibeth couldn't tell the difference, that much was certain. For all of her fear, she suddenly realized Grazzt was a uniquely skilled tattooist, and she felt a little better that he was the one who would be working on what he'd implied was a difficult tattoo.

Finally, he finished, and he shoved himself a short distance away so he could admire his work as a whole. Carefully, he stepped around to the other side of the chair... then back again... then back to the other side yet again, apparently comparing the two sides. Kibeth felt the need to speak up then.

"It looks great; it looks the same on both sides," she attempted to reassure him, and he only grunted wordlessly and kept pacing.

"Is there something wrong with it that I don't see?" Kibeth tried again, now beginning to examine the work he'd done on her more closely, but still coming up with nothing.

"Hussssh," Grazzt responded, a hiss on his sibilance as his tongue flicked out from between his teeth to taste the air. He was staring at her intensely, but she didn't want to interrupt him further. She tried desperately not to think of fidgeting, because otherwise, she would fidget. In her efforts to not think about it, she thought even more about it, and her legs began to almost burn from within, urging her to move them just to show herself they were still attached.

Finally, she felt she could hold it no longer and her leg muscles spasmed; she twitched. Grazzt heaved a sigh and shook his head sadly.

"I was trying to memorize the pattern. The spell depends on both of us knowing it. Come, see the pattern in a mirror," Grazzt offered a wing-claw for balance as Kibeth awkwardly dismounted the oddly-shaped chair, and he led her to a vanity mirror that had been turned sideways and slid into a space between counters. Gingerly, he pulled it out, and angled it toward her.

Kibeth peered into the mirror and turned sideways so she could see every inch of the tattoo. It was lovely, almost beyond words. Her eyes curled and swooped up through the knots and she became more excited about the tattoo with every inch of it that she attempted to commit to memory.

"Keep looking at it, I'll be right back," Grazzt turned his back to her and stepped back over to his utility cabinet, then began to rifle through drawers and cubbies, searching for something. Kibeth watched him only a moment before her eyes moved back to the mirror. She cracked a grin as she imagined the traced, sketchy lines filled in with the beautiful light blue she had chosen. She imagined it like a satin ribbon enveloping her form and already began daydreaming of showing it off to strangers. Each time her mind began to wander from the tattoo, she tried to concentrate on it again, but it was difficult simply staring at a pattern for so long. She glanced back at the dragonpony; he was still rifling through the cabinet, hunting like a leopard for its prey, hungry eyes focused only on the tools within the darkness of the cabinet's insides. Kibeth glanced back at the mirror. She thought about showing the tattoo to Snowflake.

"Back up on the chair, now," Grazzt demanded suddenly. He was carrying a few tools in his tail and another couple in one of his wing-claws; he used the other to help her back up into the seat. She took a more comfortable seat on the chair while Grazzt set his tools down; when he turned back to her, he shook his head and gestured that she lay out in the chair as the shape intended her to. Uncertain, she stretched herself out across it.

"Now, do you remember the pattern?" he gestured at her tattoo. She nodded, mutely; she remembered as best she could. She tried to lay her head comfortably in the headrest of the chair and found she was a little too small to do so. She started thinking about Alile, and started to worry.

"Just... keep the pattern in your memory," the dragonpony scolded. He turned to flip open a book on his tool-table, and from within read a few words that sounded like a language Kibeth had heard in some of her studies, but she couldn't quite place it. Some of the dragonpony's many tattoos began to faintly glow an almost imperceptible - under the harsh lights of the studio - but visible, soft white. He turned to look at her; his eyes were glowing, as well, the glow nearly masking his pupils and giving him an eerie, vacant stare. Kibeth shuddered a bit and he patiently put a wing-claw on her shoulder.

"Just a bit of magic," he soothed, and then went back to reading his tome. He tapped the jar of pale blue ink and the glow enveloped it like a hungry dust borne on a living wind, and soon it enveloped his tools, as well. He seemed to be repeating the same, lengthy phrase for each of them, she soon realized... it would take some time with the number of tools he had. She fidgeted, and closed her eyes; brought her knotwork tattoo to her mind.

She concentrated on it for what seemed like eons, and suddenly heard Grazzt speak in Common again, "Now..."

"You're going to feel a tingle under your skin. Close your eyes, and just imagine the pattern. I'm afraid this spell sort of takes me over; I have to concentrate and I may not hear you, so stay silent and just think of the pattern. That's all you have to do."

As Grazzt spoke, he seemed to sound as though he were coming from further and further away. Kibeth felt her eyelids droop and her head become heavy; despite the uncomfortable lack of headrest, she laid her head down. Her mind seemed upset by this because she didn't feel particularly sleepy. She knew, in the darkness she was left in, that she had to remember the pattern. She reconstructed it in her mind and tried to let everything else float away.

Grazzt watched the filly drift away to a seeming hypnotic trance, and nodded his head satisfactorily to himself. He pulled up one of his tattooing instruments in his tail, and steadied it with a wing-claw. Usually he would be using two instruments at once - one in a tail and one supported by both wing-claws - because he felt it helped him make a more 'complete'-feeling picture, but for magical tattoos, he needed his full concentration on what he was doing, and had never been certain enough in his ambidextrous skills to attempt them with magic. His eyes began to burn a hotter and hotter white as he approached Kibeth with the instrument, until it finally touched her skin and his eyes were like vacuums of white. He seemed to become a little tense; his movements a little more jerky, as though he were being puppeted.

As the tattooing 'needle' met her skin, Kibeth found it didn't feel like a needle at all. And it wasn't; it was more of a metal paintbrush that delivered the ink and was engraved with special, spell-bound characters. Still, everywhere it touched, her skin felt raw, like it had just gone for a lengthy sugar-scrub Tingling and upset, but not necessarily painful. She was so surprised she nearly stopped thinking about the pattern; her mind reached to return to it, intact.

Thankfully, Grazzt seemed to be moving with super-pony efficiency, not once stopping to even sit back and admire his work, always hunched over with the tip of his muzzle nearly touching her hide, peering closely at the tattoo he wove with his tail and wing-claws jerking mechanically up, down, left, right, somehow leaving smooth marks as though made with expert touch.

As she concentrated, Kibeth made a game of trying to figure out what portion of the tattoo, in her mind, Grazzt was currently creating. The dragonpony moved so quickly it was difficult to tell, but Kibeth used the opportunity to keep the pattern fresh... let alone stave off the boredom and slight annoyance of being stuck in an uncomfortable chair and seemingly rubbed raw. As she thought of this, she felt the sensation - and the pressure from his tattooing pen - subside, and heard the shuffle of hooves as he nearly scrambled to the other side of the table, hectically as though he had limited time or were so invested in his work he had no heed for his own safety. As soon as he came around to her other side, he started in. Kibeth felt the uncomfortable sensation of the instrument anew; her other side wasn't accustomed to it yet, and she fought out the feeling of needing to give the tattooist a good, firm kick by trying to trace the various knots on the tattoo.

Grazzt continued, seeming driven by an unnatural willpower, his tail and wing-claws never once taking a rest as they almost effortlessly traced the lines on her skin. He could feel that he was near the end of the pattern; it was so hard to see through the glow of the spell, but he knew his wing-claws and tail would take over where his vision could not... the spell was made to create the design from the mind of those present, not necessarily on par with the tattooist's skill, so it the spell needed to take over the tattooist, at least partially, to make certain the design came out as planned.

Even as he neared the end of the pattern, though, Grazzt felt ill-at-ease. He could remember the tattoo pattern easily, after years of experience... but how easily could a fidgeting young filly? If she focused on anything else for a length of time, it could ruin things. Her clenched-shut eyes and slightly tensed form seemed to imply she was intensely focused on the pattern as he'd suggested, but anything could be going through the mind of a child. His eyes watched the last few passes his tail was doing over Kibeth. He felt his body propelled upward; clumsily but quickly he lifted himself and stepped so he could reach around and view Kibeth's concentrating face. He suddenly felt concerned; why hadn't the spell released him?

On Kibeth's brow, beneath the cut of bangs that usually hung over them, Grazzt spotted a small, round scar. Before he could even attempt to pull himself away, he leaned in, his tail flicked out, and he quickly seemed to dot the scar with a large circle, apparently aiming to cover it as he'd stupidly asked the spell to do. He hadn't noticed the scar tissue there, on her forehead.

And now that the spell took him back and away from the chair, he realized he hadn't noticed the scar tissue on her front hooves, either. The tattooing implement had done a decent job of covering them... at least, it didn't clash with the rest of the pattern. But Grazzt's hopes fell as the white glow in his vision diminished and he got his first, real look at the results of the spell.

Kibeth's side had been tattooed, and it had covered her scars, that much was true... but the pattern was little like the graceful knots he'd scrawled on her and they'd both attempted to remember. They seemed to have lost all of their connections and now resembled a twisting line ending in a spiral, surrounded by echo-like patterns. She had a spot on her forehead, and rings of tattoo like bracelets around her back legs. Her front hooves had small, wedge-like tattoos on them that almost resembled slippers. All-in-all, it was nothing like what they had discussed, but it did a decent job of covering the scars she'd set out to cover.

The real disappointment was the color. Even as he blinked and looked again, the color was slowly dissipating from what he'd just tattooed... the pale blue seemed to be slowly leached of its color, becoming a pale gray and then darkening, darkening further, until it was a medium-to-deep, dark steel gray. The effect seemed to be absorbed by the rest of the tattoo, creeping along the paths Grazzt had created until all of the beautiful sky blue had been completely eaten away. Grazzt had never seen anything like this happen before.

He made a disappointed-sounding grunt, and Kibeth rustled on the chair. "Can I move now?"

"Yes..." Grazzt muttered. He heaved a sigh and advanced to help her down from the chair; regretfully, he brought her over to the vanity mirror, explaining as they went...

"... Something has happened with the spell. I could not have anticipated this. Alile told me your scars were caused by magic; I had no way of knowing what that could do to the spell. It's covered your scars but..."

They were in front of the mirror and Kibeth's hopeful eyes went dark. She turned slowly around in a circle, examining the markings with what looked like an intense worry. For a moment, Grazzt thought she was going to cry.

Grazzt put a wing-claw on her shoulder, "They did what you wanted them to do.

"I know how you feel, though. I wanted to experience a magic tattoo... I got one in town. Three of them, actually. The first two went great. I tried to get the third one on my tail. Something got in the way of the spell... or one of us got distracted... I don't know..."

With an uneasy sigh, Grazzt turned to show off a portion of his tail near the base. Whatever should have been there certainly wasn't; instead, there was what seemed to be a scribble of hot pink. It almost glittered in the light of the studio; it certainly clashed with his otherwise black-and-green appearance. Kibeth was surprised she hadn't seen it before.

"Can I ever get it fixed?" she asked in a cracked voice.

"I wouldn't suggest having anyone try to use magic on it again..." Grazzt admonished, though clearly apologetic.

Kibeth felt her heart begin to ache at the knowledge that the tattoo hadn't turned out right... but she looked up at Grazzt trying to comfort her and felt something like a switch go off in her head. The tears that threatened to burn their way out of her ducts and down her cheeks disappeared; she suddenly pursed her lips with determination.

"They do cover my scars. Thank you, for your help, Grazzt. May Am'hatai's eyes watch over and guide you." She suddenly felt thankful the dragonpony had been able to help her at all. She bowed, deeply and respectfully, and Grazzt chuckled.

"No tattoo could look bad on a filly as beautiful as you," he replied, and bent down to give her a playful, friendly peck on the cheek. He then turned and began to clean up his instruments, saying back over her shoulder, "I bet your father is waiting for you; don't keep him. Make sure to put lotion on the tattoo three times a day. Come back if you have any problems; head to the infirmary if you notice any swelling."

Kibeth nodded and, eager to be out of the room and reunited with Alile, grasped up her satchel and quickly made her way out into the hallway.

* * *

Kibeth had never discussed her ideas for a tattoo with Alile, so the flutter stallion didn't question it when Kibeth emerged with a seemingly random pattern of swirls and echo lines. The filly looked eager to return home, and not at all upset as far as he could see, so he shrugged and let Kibeth lead the way. He'd already paid Grazzt for the work; he wondered if he ought to have poked back in and given the dragonpony a 'thank you', but Kibeth was already rushing ahead, turning a corner to trot toward the stairs for ascension to their living quarters, where they would deposit their things before heading back down to the cafeteria for dinner. As much as Alile liked being able to eat dinner in their abode, it was equally nice eating out of the cafeteria and not having to do dishes.

Kibeth's week seemed to fly by; to her, it felt like the hours of her day were more often spent explaining the new tattoo to ponies than anything else, including her classes - wich professors occasionally interrupted to ask the same questions. There had been several questions that had disheartened her - what was the design supposed to be, why had it been done in gray instead of color - but for the most part she enjoyed being unique for something that didn't make her look deformed.

It was her Herbology course that she'd eagerly awaited, and when the course was through, she quickly trotted into the hallway and spun on her heel, peering back into the room to catch Snowflake as he came out. Ponies poured out of the room and she kept an eye out for his particular shade of gray; he didn't seem to exit, so she peeked back into the room, to find he was busy discussing something with the teacher. Impatient, she huffed and began to shuffle her hooves lightly, keeping a close eye on the door.

As soon as she heard the slow, methodical, but loud trotting of hefty hooves, and saw his pale gray muzzle peek out from around the door frame, she burst out in front of him and shouted "Snowflake!"

Snowflake, reasonably startled, whinnied and reared; he nearly kicked Kibeth in the head, had she not been quick to move out of his reach. Snowflake's wild eyes glanced around him as they looked for an exit... when he realized it had just been Kibeth, popping out to surprise him. Sheepish, he dropped back to all fours and began to blush.

"Wh-wh-what is it, K-kibeth? Y-y-you're going to m-make me l-l-late for my next class," he muttered, sounding more embarrassed than actually upset as he turned his tail to her and started to trot purposefully away.

"Have you seen my new tattoo, Snowflake? Alile let me get it. Grazzt was my tattooist; he's a pretty big dragon, and he has lots of tattoos. What do you think of my tattoo?" Kibeth practically jabbered non-stop, not giving Snowflake a single pause to get a word in edgewise until she'd finished asking her question. She hopped around Snowflake in a circle, as he was continuing to stride forward, to show the tattoo off.

Snowflake snorted.

"I-it's all r-r-right..."

"Only all right?" Kibeth seemed shocked; she looked pointedly at Snowflake, concern for his mood apparent in her eyes. It was clear she thought something was wrong with him. He shook his head and heaved out a rough, ragged whoosh of a sigh.

"I d-d-don't think y-you NEEDED a tattoo, at all... y-you were f-f-fine the way you w-w-were." There was a tone of annoyance in his voice and Kibeth shrank back a bit; Snowflake continued to plow forward, his eyes already reaching down the hallway toward the stairs that would lead him to his next class, not wanting to look back at whatever new face Kibeth might give him.

"Snowflake..." Kibeth couldn't really think of a way to reply, and as her apprehension slowed her down, he easily overtook her and cantered off to his class, his huge gait leaving her behind almost instantly. For a moment, she just stood in the hallway looking perplexed... but eventually she noticed she was getting looks from other ponies walking up and down the halls. Ones who couldn't mind their own business, she thought ruefully to herself. She felt a tightness in her chest that seized her throat and she could feel the sting in her tear ducts as they expressed tears that gathered on the brim of her eyelids but she was too determined to keep from letting drop. She shook her head, flinging the tears away and mussing her hair, and then leapt into a gallop, headed in the opposite direction, toward the cafeteria and away from her next class.

She'd spent nearly an entire week showing her tattoo off to ponies, and only now did she feel a sense of regret. She didn't quite understand why Snowflake was upset, but she didn't want him to be, and if it was because she had gotten the tattoo... she wished she never had.

* * *

When she reached the cafeteria, she surveyed the half-empty tables with tear-stained eyes until she found a suitable one with no other ponies sitting at it. Depositing her satchel, she went hastily through the buffet-like line and grabbed some comfort foods... mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, and a large chocolate muffin. It wasn't a healthy fare but she hurriedly scurried back to her table and began to scarf it down. Eating only barely managed to hold back the tears, and she felt a mix of embarrassed and obese at the sad picture she was probably providing of a tear-stained filly's face shoveling loads of food in without a second glance. She got halfway through the helping of mashed potatoes she served herself before she finally began to feel calm again.

It was only when one of the cafeteria workers came over to check on her that Kibeth finally decided she needed to get off to her next class. She asked the worker if she looked all right and received an incredulous look before even getting a word; thanking the worker, she turned and headed toward the nearest bathroom, where she took a moment to clean and refresh her face and get one of the bathroom monkeys to re-tie her hair. The tiny, brown-and-white monkey curled its tail around her neck and began to pull all of the strands back, and up into the bun she preferred, and with his help, she looked passable enough to enter her classroom. She thanked the money even though she was sure it couldn't understand her, and then made her way back down the hallway she'd just run from moments before, and up the stairs Snowflake had just gone up to avoid her. She'd momentarily forgotten what his next class was, but was happy it wasn't with her... she had no idea how to fix the issue he now had with her, and figured a little time apart would be the best medicine.

Her course on baking barely glanced up as she entered and took a seat, trying not to zone out on the lessons and let her mind flitter to her tattoo, Snowflake, and other possible future problems.


	25. Chapter 25 - The Next

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Twenty-Five - The Next_

"We must find a replacement for the Head Professor of Twilight," Dream Keeper stated, loudly and directly, in order to reach all of the Seven, who were sitting across the Great Speaking Hall from her, positioned at their respective tables and only seeming to idly watch her. There were no other ponies in the room save for the guards; the Great Speaking Hall was usually reserved for speeches and announcements delivered to most, or the whole, of Zith-lynd, when the Seven felt a verbal announcement wasn't enough, or when more than one of them wanted to speak. Generally the only time the Great Speaking Hall would be used for the Seven to be the audience was at the Yearly Council, when the ponies of Zith-lynd could voice their ideas and complaints in an open forum. Today, though, all of the other meeting rooms were in use or being cleaned... the Great Speaking Hall, as large and intimidating as it was, was the only place they could speak freely but privately.

"For what reason?" Dohektah asked pointedly, as though it were a question that should have been answered by Dream Keeper's first words to the room.

"There is another pony in need of lessons in the magic, and our tower shouldn't be without one. How can we expect to properly defend ourselves - let alone properly pray to the Goddess - if we don't have a complete arsenal of the elements at hoof?"

Dohektah's brow came down like a dark storm cloud descending. "Who are you to question the security of the tower? At my last check, you were not a member of the Tower Guard or even Defense." He said it not loudly, but stonily.

"What new pony is in need of guidance in the Twilight arts...?" Sniffle spoke up over Dohektah's brooding, seeming concerned. She stood up from her table and craned forward expectantly.

"It is..." Dream Keeper looked around, suddenly feeling the intensity of the fourteen eyes on her. She was a member of the Council, some of the specially-prepared ponies who kept watch over the tower's inner workings; she had already been given a thorough interview by them, but she still felt antsy when she had to stand in front of them and speak to them as though she were on trial.

"It is Kibeth," she sighed, then immediately her eyes fluttered open and she glanced to Regulus, whose reaction she had been the most afraid to see.

Regulus looked a bit stunned, but regained his composure quickly. He didn't seem to say a word about it... then, after seeming to ponder a moment, he did speak up.

"Perhaps she is right. We have been without a professor in this position for too long. Ponies have equal rights to learn and access all magics that they can. In the name of Justice, I suggest we send a party to the nearest towns to find a teacher."

The other Six looked uncertain; they glanced amongst each other, seeming to silently speak with one another. Leonard was the next to speak up.

"Am'hatai would want us to be balanced. We've been putting it off... maybe I've been a bit lazy in thinking about it... but it has to happen some time." He shrugged nonchalantly, then nodded affirmatively to Dream Keeper, whose tenseness seemed to diminish as she let out the last of her nervous breath.

Roughshadow and looked the most incredulous about the decision... that was normal. Dohektah had begun to take a longer moment to think about the proposal... usually when he gave it another go-around, he would come to the right decision, his first was almost never his final. Primadolla was conversing with Kyrgil, and Sniffle stood up to fill in the silence.

"In the name of Compassion, I certainly support a new teacher. The little ponies... they need guidance." She nodded solemnly, then sat back down.

"Uhh, Primadolla has said I can speak for the both of us; we support hiring a new teacher, as long as we are also the ones to oversee the creation of the committee to go into town," Kyrgil stood to speak, ringingly clear, before taking a decisive seat again.

"Well, Rough, I'm afraid you'll just have to accept a new member into the tower," Dohektah gave a shrug, and turned to nod his agreement with the others.

Dream Keeper looked momentarily pleased... but then her smile turned serious again.

"How long will it take to find a replacement?"

"Anywhere from weeks to months," Dohektah answered truthfully, apologetically, "It depends on how long it takes to get there, how long it takes to find a suitable teacher, whether they agree to come with us and join the tower or just visit and write letters... if they come back to the tower, then however long it takes to pack their belongings and get them ready for the journey... and then the trip back..."

Dream Keeper nodded solemnly, looking disheartened by the news but still standing resolutely for the proposition.

"All right, let's find out who will lead the expedition..." Roughshadow finally grumbled from his sullen, sulky table. "Bring in the Guards and Defense, and bring the Head Professor of Water; in addition to being able to provide the group with water in the desert and explain the teaching position of the tower to the new professor... he's the only professor with a competent apprentice who can cover his classes, currently."

Dream Keeper gave a deep bow to the surrounding Seven.

"May Am'hatai bless you and keep you safe; Myshna, and thank you again for your help..." She carefully walked backward a few paces, and then turned to trot away. She tried not to look back over her shoulder at the Seven who were likely watching her leave and getting ready to bicker amongst themselves... she had had enough of that for the day, and was happy they were mostly able to carry out the request without her help. Now they need only wait. She just hoped Kibeth's magic would stay inaccessible until the teacher arrived and could properly train her... Dream Keeper had never seen an apprentice in the twilight magic with a telekinetic ability, but she could only begin to imagine the disasters such an inexperienced, ignorant pony might cause with full access to their powers.

* * *

The day passed and the sun schlepped across the sky with its usual lumbering proficiency, its rays warming first one side of the tower, then the other as it began to dip below the furthest-viewable sand dunes; the opposite side of the sky began to turn dark. More time passed as ponies within Zith-lynd began to find their beds for the evening, and as the first stars began to peek brightly out from behind the sky-blanket gradient, the Dawnbell - or Duskbell, as the case was - shattered the stillness with its echoing, gong-like ring, which reverberated down the levels of the tower like distant thunder. Or, rather, along with the distant thunder... stormclouds were rolling in, one by one, from the now-darkened skyline, like ink clouding in dark water, and a flash of lightning - this time, visible - lit the far-away dunes. A breeze picked up, and shortly another peal of thunder shook the ground.

The lightning came closer. A series of rock formations, regularly a rust-red color and viewable to the east from some of the tower's higher floors, was white with illumination as a bolt of lightning slid down out of the sky and violently made contact with the ground. The tower was illuminated, as well, casting a pale shade of white over the large stones, glass windows, wrought-iron railings and stairs, and especially upon an unknown figure, a mere dark lump on one of the tower's top levels. The moment the illumination subsided, the dark lump began to move again... and not at all like a lump, but swiftly and precisely like a large, black bat using years of experience with echolocation. It skittered up the sides of the tower making only momentary, seconds-long stops - to catch its breath or its footing, anyone's guess - before reaching one of the highest levels, the top of the tower that supported the Seven pillars of the Embodiments.

Here, the figure stopped. It was hunched low against the side of a wall, out of sight of even the moon, which frequently but fitfully peeked through the clouds as though it were a small child trying to see around a crowd of grown-ups. The figure was motionless... it began to resemble just another rock on the wall. Then, the lightning flashed - ever-closer, the roll of thunder started moments after the light dissipated, rocking the foundations of the tower and likely waking a few ponies in the process. The light dimmed, and once again the figure began swiftly moving across the rooftop. It moved only a few steps before stopping, solidly, as though it were mechanical, a tall, dark post in the night as another flash, followed by another crash... and then it began to move again. It was purposefully skirting the light cast by the storm, moving until the next flash, waiting, and moving again. It had nearly made it to the first of the seven towers.

Once there, it took a sharp left, and bypassed the first tower completely. It moved, with no hesitation and clear purpose, around the second-closest, third, fourth, and fifth, until it finally came to the sixth of the seven towers. Once at the base of the tower, it hunched down again... there was a flash of light... and suddenly it was up, up flying toward the top of the tower with barely-visible, translucent, flutterpony-shaped wings, spiralling around the tower's girth, upward to the roof, where it stopped, and then began a similarly spiralling descent. Halfway through this descent it seemed to find what it was looking for. It paused. Another lightning flash... and the figure had disappeared.

Another flash of light illuminated the tower - this time, only the tower the figure had approached, and seemingly from within - and suddenly the figure was there again, in the same spot it had just occupied moments before, clinging to the side of the tower about half-way up from its base. The figure didn't move... not for the moment, and not for the rest of the night. It was only when the rays of light cascading in the bellringer's window roused her and the Dawnbell began its rhythmic, if nearly defeaning, rings. The figure almost seemed to blow away with the wind or disappear in the sunlight... either way, it was gone, as though it had never clung to the tower's height in the first place.

* * *

"Did you hear? They found the Head of Compassion dead this morning. It looks like it's the same as when the Head of Justice was killed, I heard," a pony a few tables away from Alile in the cafeteria was a little loud with the news. Alile had been busy working on finishing a honeybun - the ones offered in the cafeteria were nearly as big as a pony's head and difficult to eat in one sitting - when his ear had twitched to acknowledge the other's rumors. The honeybun dropped out of his mouth and he leaned nearer... which, in his current position, had him leaning backward and struggling to still balance upright in his chair.

"She was definitely murdered... they're going to be investigating it. I imagine they'll be shutting down travel in and out of the tower," the pony continued with a shrug, seeming not all that compassionate about the death of the Head of Compassion and more interested in what sorts of delays in service they could expect. Granted, shutting down travel to and from the tower meant grave things... some of the tower's food came from its greenhouse and gardens, as well as the livestock stables on the opposite side of the tower from the garden... but many supplies such as first aid, wood and metal for crafting, and some fabrics were carted in from one of the three cities surrounding the tower. No travel out nor in meant no Zith-lynd ponies picking up supplies, but also meant that any merchant caravans that arrived would be subsequently turned away and asked to return at another time. The tower really couldn't afford such delays.

For now, it seemed the pony spreading rumors had had her fill of spreading them and was eager to fill her stomach; she had gone silent. Alile was eager to get more information, though, and decided he'd had enough of his honeybun that he could probably toss out the rest.

As he deposited the rest of his meal in the food recycle bin (it was likely all fed to the goats, who provided much of the tower ponies' milk), he pondered who he would possibly speak to about the issue. First to his mind was, of course, Regulus... but the Head of Justice would probably still be in shock, or mourning, or even part of the investigation the other pony had talked about. His next thought was Dream Keeper... but the mare had been keeping her distance from him as of late, for some reason he'd yet to fathom, and she likely had more important things to be dealing with. He kept trying to think, but the only conclusion he came to - the one he kept coming to despite his aversion to it - was to check in with Bad Gambler.

Bad Gambler had been aptly named. His father had somehow managed to pass his addiction to gambling down to his son... and his mother, thoroughly upset at his father for gambling all of their money away, had cursed the father's family line. Literally, as she had been a voodoo priestess, and with a cackle and puff of smoke she had disappeared from the stallions' lives forever. Unfortunately for Bad Gambler, this meant he had all of the addiction to gambling with none of the luck - or even luck of odds - in his favor. His father found him useless, and eventually included him in the 'pot' for a gamble he subsequently lost. Bad Gambler was passed from gambler to gambler like a strange, squealing form of currency until, at last, a gambler who was part of a caravan came to visit the tower. He didn't lose Bad Gambler in a game as the rest had, but he'd tired of feeding, cleaning, and teaching a youngster that was little more than currency to him, and asked if Zith-lynd had any place for the young colt. Despite all of this, after years of misfortune, he was still somehow a generally easygoing stallion... at least, until he had been given a position as a guard for one of the higher levels of the tower.

Since then, Bad Gambler had become all business. Alile could remember the days when Gambler always had a joke ready; he and Gambler both had grown up in the tower, as acquaintances, and despite their never having been extremely close friends, Gambler had always provided an ear to listen to and a joke when he was down. Now, though, one was lucky to get even a chuckle out of Gambler. When asked, he only divulged that he enjoyed being a guard because, he believed, he was good at his work... something Alile imagined Gambler didn't get a chance to say often, and possibly the reason he was so devoted to his position.

Alile knew Bad Gambler had been on guard duty the night of the murder because Gambler always preferred nighttime duty. It was just a matter of finding out which door he had been guarding, and if he had heard anything or been privy to any leaked information about the once-again-Six.

Alile climbed his way up the stairs toward the last quarters he knew Bad Gambler had resided in. Ponies in the tower didn't switch rooms very often, and he recalled Gambler being fond of his placement, but Alile had budgeted enough time out of his schedule to cover if he needed to find wherever Gambler had gotten off to. He reached the zenith of the stairs on the tenth floor and looked around; the hallways and doors were colored a deep, buttery gold color, one Alile vaguely recalled. He was probably on the right track. Eagerly he strode down the hall on the left, past two corridors, down to the end where he turned right. He counted the doors almost unknowingly - one, two, three, four - and at the fourth door he stopped, and knocked a hoof against the golden-painted, solid wood. The door opened almost immediately.

"It's you!" Bad Gambler cried from beyond the door frame. Alile peeked in. The flutterpony stallion standing across from him was a deep, near-black, but patterned with splotches of dove-white paint; they covered his legs in partial socks and his back in a painted saddle, and even stretched up his neck and muddled his face. He was easily a few inches taller than Alile at the shoulder, and with a broad, somewhat longer neck so that his head's height was easily six inches above Alile's. It was quaffed in a rich eggplant color, much like his tail, except for a single streak in his mane that contrasted with the rest in a deep, hunter green. The stallion looked much hardier than Alile, and he suddenly felt somewhat self-conscious... he was part of the Guard for the tower, as well, but he was not nearly in as good of physical shape as Gambler seemed to be.

"It's been a while..." Alile admitted a bit sheepishly, shaking his mane out of his eyes and giving Bad Gambler a humble look. Gambler barely saw it; he was too busy smiling and motioning for Alile to enter his dormitory.

As Alile stepped in, he realized the room was about as bare as it could be... decked out only in what the tower provided every new recruit, and without a single personal touch of a picture or blanket or throw-pillow anywhere. Gambler took a quick seat on his beat and motioned for Alile to take the only chair in the room... he was surprised Gambler had never even requested a new chair. He began to wonder how often the stallion got company... surely not all of Gambler's friends had abandoned him when he became part of the Guard; Alile thought he had simply slacked off, himself.

"Can I do anything for you?" Gambler asked eagerly, despite having seemingly so little to offer. Alile looked around a moment and then nodded.

"Do you know anything about what has happened to the Seven?"

Bad Gambler's face fell instantly.

"I'm... really not supposed to talk about it."

"I heard it was the Head of Compassion, Sniffle, who was killed. Is that true?"

Bad Gambler pursed his lips and then slowly, sympathetically nodded. Alile thrust out a great sigh. He and Gambler had grown up alongside Sniffle, and though they had not known her well, any death among those they'd grown with - let alone the ponies of the tower in general - was one to be mourned. There was a moment of heavy silence as the stallions fidgeted.

"She was murdered?" Alile finally queried.

"Yes... but we're not sure by whom, yet."

"The same suspect as last time...?"

"Almost certainly," Bad Gambler nodded sorrowfully, "Like before, the body was a husk... no wounds, but blood literally everywhere... like it was purposeful. I can't imagine who would do such a thing, or how it could even come to be, but there it was..." his gaze dropped to the floor as he tried to shake the image away again.

"There were... there were no clues, last time. No leads. Nothing. The only suspects were the guards; they were taken off guard duty.

"I was a guard this time, Alile," Bad Gambler suddenly sounded frantic, a pleading tone wavering his voice. Alile tilted is head. He knew Bad Gambler would never have done something like that. If he was one of the two guards and they were the only suspects... it occurred to Alile that there was a great chance that Bad Gambler could lose his job. Even though it didn't seem to stop the murders last time, if the guards were truly the only suspects, the Six would have no other option.

Alile tapped a hoof on the floor as he pondered. He wondered if he could possibly speak to Regulus. He wasn't certain he would have the ability to contact the stallion... it would be further difficult to get an audience with him, and even moreso to convince him that Bad Gambler should keep his job. But as Alile looked upon Gambler, whose gaze had fallen sullenly to the floor, he knew his friend wouldn't do well without the job. He'd been in some questionable situations and been repeatedly put on dorm arrest during his younger years, and Alile didn't want to see his friend getting into trouble again. He knew how much the job truly meant to Bad Gambler, and how badly the pony wanted to continue to fit in amongst the ponies of Zith-lynd.

"I can try to speak to the Head of Justice for you... but I can't guarantee anything," Alile finally proposed. He didn't know how much of his days it would take or how little of his own work would get done, but he figured he ought to try... this was practically what having a personal connection to a Head was for, wasn't it?

Bad Gambler immediately seemed to brighten; he perked up in his chair and wordlessly clapped Alile on the shoulder with a hoof, shaking him in what the stallion likely deemed a grateful way. Alile nodded and rose from his chair.

"I heard that Regulus would be visiting the greenhouse today to check in on our food supply while the tower closes to travel. You could probably catch him there without taking too much time out of your schedule," Gambler offered helpfully as he, too, stood, to allow Alile to exit.

"I appreciate it," Alile smiled reassuringly to his friend, over his shoulder, before trotting quickly out the door. He stepped into a canter and made way for the upward-ascending stairs... he had a long trot before he reached the greenhouse, which was close to the top of the tower not only to keep heat during the cold nights but also so that the sunlight could best reach it. Rarely did Alile have to climb almost all of the levels of Zith-lynd today... he mentally reminded himself not to exercise this evening as he usually did, lest he overexert himself.


	26. Chapter 26 - The Greenhouse

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Twenty-Six - The Greenhouse_

The trek to the greenhouse went very slowly. It was extra work getting past all of the guards, exponentially moreso the higher you got in levels. Alile was lucky to be a guard himself and know most of the guards... unfortunately, most of the ponies directly in front of him as he reached the guards' checkpoints were not so lucky. He was caught several times waiting behind ponies that couldn't correctly answer the guards' questions, took too long to answer, or were asked follow-up questions. In a rare instance, he even ended up behind a pony that had to be turned away; he was clearly an apprentice, and had forgotten the name of the Professor he studied under for the class he was attempting to gain access to the level for. He looked disappointed as he turned away; he gave a momentary pleading look to Alile, but he shook his head. The apprentice would just have to head back down the staircase... hopefully he would learn his lesson and not forget such important information again.

The last guard station, the one that opened into th greenhouse itself, was difficult to pass. The guards knew and acknowledged that Regulus was, indeed, already inside. That was why they were not allowing visitors. Only Regulus and the official greenhouse staff were allowed in, and even some of the staff had been given the day off so the few Head greenhouse technicians could give Regulus the tour and explain their standings. Alile huffed but tried not to get too upset. They were only doing their jobs.

"Could you please just peek in and tell him it's Alile?" he pleaded, flashing the two guards a winning smile. He'd never seen these guards on his force - they were obviously from another regiment - so he would need to do all he could.

The guards exchanged a glance that told Alile they probably wouldn't be doing much to help him... but one finally shook his head, and turned toward the door. With a loud creak, the large wooden door - bowed, cracked, splintered, and waterlogged from years of being subjected to the intense heat, humidity, and water of the greenhouse - slid smoothly open and the guard leaned in through the door frame.

"Head of Justice, sir, we have an Alile to see you." The call seemed to fall flat on the greenhouse floor. It was dense with brush and not the best place for an echo. Yet, they could faintly hear back 'let him through.' Nodding, the guards gave Alile another incredulous look over as he passed between them and through the door, which shut with a near-defeaning SLAM behind him. He leapt a few feet in the air and caught himself with his wings... a good thing, because he had nearly leapt himself right into what looked to be a patch of cactus. Carefully, he dropped back down on the pre-made tiled pathway between the stands and groupings of plants.

The greenhouse used its space much more wisely than the garden, and was much more impressive to the eye.

The first thing ponies usually noticed were the vaulted ceilings. The greenhouse was easily one of the tallest floors of the tower, with the ceiling reaching almost twenty feet above the ponies' heads. This was to accommodate the vast number of trees they housed. The greenhouse floor was also one of the few floors in the tower that was no more than a couple of upward and downward-leading stairs before the guardspost, and a wide open space on the other side... all the greenhouse level needed to accommodate were plants; no ponies, so no dorms, no meeting rooms or halls, not even any bathrooms as there was what resembled a large outhouse in one corner of the greenhouse, which had been plumbed so as to carry the waste down to the below-level's bathroom waste receptacle, and ever-downward as most of the waste traveled till it reached the compost heap. The greenhouse level was quite simple in its layout.

Another feature of the greenhouse was its windows. The vast majority of Zith-lynd was windowless. There were either no window openings whatsoever, or open holes to allow ventilation, or even completely open door-sized spaces for flutterponies to fly to, so they could access various floors by flying (Alile rarely did this; it was difficult maneuvering the updrafts around the tower and he was too frightened of getting smashed into the tower wall by an errant breeze). The greenhouse, however, was surrounded in door-sized, decoratively-shaped openings which had been filled in with thick glass panels. Subsequently it was easily one of the brightest rooms in the tower. Alile felt a little dazzled as he examined the windows and found the noonday sun to be peeking in.

He should have known about what time it was just judging by how he felt instantly bathed in sweat the moment he had stepped into the greenhouse. The windows had a tendency to trap heat; the many and varied sprinklers in the room kept everything wet; the combination of the two offered a humidity rarely seen in the bone-dry deserts outside. Alile could feel his light hide fur slickened and heavy on his body, and his mane had already begun to droop as it collected water. His tail hung limply behind him and he reminded himself, should he get an annoying flank-itch, not to use it and to rub against a tree instead... lest he give himself a painful equivalent to a wet towel snap.

Alile began to move forward, and as he did, despite it being his second visit to the greenhouse, he marveled at some of the engineering. Where there were not stands of trees, the floor was taken up by floating levels of growing space. About five levels seemingly hovered above the floor (though they were hung from sturdy, if thin, wire at each corner) at three foot intervals, each of them several inches thick to accommodate soil. The wire that had been used to hang them was so sturdy, one or two ponies could stand on a level without the wires threatening to snap, meaning they could easily water them... and not only that, but each level had a small series of holes on the bottom of it. Water which was poured into the top level and seeped all the way through the soil, finding no spot to absorb it, would find its way down, out the holes, and find itself turned into rain for the level below. In this way, the greenhouse efficiently utilized its space and managed to grow the food that fed almost all of the ponies of Zith-lynd.

Alile peered wondrously at some of the plants he passed. He had taken a few courses on botany - enough to generally know what plants were okay to eat, and which wouldn't be - but definitely not enough to identify even half of the plants he was passing. He recognized some fruits - blueberries, half of them already picked but the other half temptingly ripe-looking - but did not recognize others, such as a set of berries planted next to the blueberries that resembled some form of strawberry, but were in the reverse... where strawberries were generally red with white seeds, this seemed to be white with red seeds. Alile absently wondered if they were playing with the plants' makeup in the greenhouse somehow.

He passed the levels where they were growing F'hassberries. The F'hassberries were one of the main exports of the tower, a berry that grew only sparsely out in the desert and whose seeds rarely lived long after the fruit was plucked, making them extremely difficult to cultivate in cities. The flutterponies of Zith-lynd had spent ages cultivating their strains, and occasionally bringing in new specimens to add diversity to the lines. It was no easy feat, but here the F'hassberries were, their pear-shaped succulence hanging seductively from the thick, branch-like stems of the bunches they grew in, similar to grapes. The first set of F'hassberries he set his eyes on were pure white. This just looked unnatural. Balking at the site, he turned to find some blue F'hassberries, which looked much more appetizing.

Looking around, Alile decided to snatch one for himself. He grabbed the hide of a fruit - which was covered in a watermelon-like pattern, though in blue - up in his teeth and felt the flesh of the fruit bow but not cut under the pressure of his teeth. This was perfectly ripe. Turning his head to carefully pluck the fruit from the plant, he dropped it to the ground below him and then leaned down to take a mouthful of a bite. The F'hassberry opened up willingly, spilling bright yellow juice all over the pathway. Alile was a little alarmed that he'd made such a mess, but the tongue-thrilling taste of the F'hassberry juice mingling with its soft but palpable flesh was enough to keep him from worrying too much. It had been worth it, if he did end up getting reprimanded. He finished the F'hassberry off and tossed the core and remainder of the stem inconspicuously behind a bush.

And just in time, because it was then that he heard the faint clop-clop-clop of an approaching mass of ponies, likely three or four. Then he heard voices - likely the greenhouse masters - babbling and occasionally interrupting each other. It sounded like they were practically falling head over fetlock to speak to someone. Alile took this as his cue to step out from behind the layers of F'hassberries.

"Myshna and greetings..." he calmly projected as he pushed through a line of brush overhanging the walkway and came face-to-face with Regulus, followed by a flutterpony and two fairyponies. The flutter and fairies all looked absolutely startled and paled to a ghost-white. They looked as though they were going to bolt at any moment. Regulus, on the other hand, took in a breath of surprise initially... only to let it out in a snort of derision when he saw who had seemingly materialized out of the brush.

"Myshna. It took you long enough to find us... I was just heading back for the entrance, assuming you had gotten lost in the overgrowth."

Alile rolled his eyes. He may have been on a lower rung of authority than Regulus, but his friend seemed to have the same cynical outlook and be just as willing to poke fun at him.

"He's been sampling the fruits," one of the fairyponies piped up.

"Yes, yes, I can smell it," the other began to nod with enthusiastic energy that nearly made his head a blur of motion.

Alile noticed the two fairyponies were almost identical to one another. It was strange to see ponies of any species other than flutters in Zith-lynd but they were there; these particular fairyponies had been bribed to come work at Zith-lynd after a scouting party sent to one of the nearby towns had come across their amazing research into providing a wide variety of plants with the right climes to grow in.

More curious, though, was their lack of color. Both fairyponies were a darker shade of gray like thunderclouds with raven-black manes and tails. They were not twins, however; one of them had a face bespeckled with charming black freckles, while the other sported dark charcoal socks on all four of his hooves. Their wings had turned a pure white, like the center of the sun. All of this explained why Alile hadn't remembered seeing fairyponies wandering the premises. Most ponies contracted by the Seven of Zith-lynd - even the ones given room and board and staying for long periods or even permanently - refused the color draining treatment that would turn them gray like the rest of the ponies. These fairyponies, Alile figured, must have had some reason for leaving their city. A pony had to be truly devoted to the Gray Council and the Seven, Zith-lynd and Am'hatai herself to forfeit their rights to color. He wondered if the fairyponies had really chosen this course because they wanted to be more of a part of Zith-lynd... or if they were running away from something.

The flutterpony mare accompanying them was, of course, also gray... a pale gray, dappled with white spots on her flank, and with a deep gray mane and tail. She flipped a piece of her mane out of her eyes before eyeing Alile warily. Unlike the fairyponies, who seemed suddenly curious and as though they were about to leap forward and begin sniffing him like canines, the pale gray mare stayed back, and her eyes spoke volumes about how uncomfortable she was with so many ponies in the greenhouse.

"So, to what do I owe the honor of your presence?" Regulus asked, purposefully using flowery language and smirking patronizingly at Alile.

Alile opened his mouth to speak but soon blushed, re-eyeing the three ponies hovering at different heights all around the Head of Justice warily. Regulus glanced to his left, to his right, and then, with lowered eyelids, nodded.

"I'll resume this discussion with you in a moment. Please do me a favor and go count the yield of string beans," Regulus motioned to their 'audience', and gestured with his head to the opposite end of the lengthy greenhouse.

"But...!" the mare spoke up, likely about to explain to Regulus that they already had written down the yield of string beans, it was clearly labeled on the forms they had written up, and it would simply be busy work... the fairyponies hovered to circle around her and begin nudging her, with their shoulders, in the direction Regulus had indicated. The Head of Justice simply needed some time to discuss something, he overheard them whispering, and explaining they would happily start counting the yield of strawberries instead.

"Getting ready for the 'quarantine'?" Alile asked casually. He already knew the answer, but felt a little small talk might help, not to mention Regulus looked irritated and ready to talk about it.

"Yes," the flutter stallion replied, not even bothering to correct Alile on the use of the word 'quarantine', which had begun to be flung around the tower with alarming speed; it was starting to create a stir that could escalate into a panic, and Regulus made a mental note to request for the Six to make an announcement to hopefully reassure everyone.

"We seem to have plenty of supplies to last a few months... long enough that we should be able to get an investigation under way."

"I heard there were no real clues or evidence..."

"Where did you hear that?" At once Regulus sounded incredulous and surprised. Alile vacantly remembered that he probably shouldn't have admitted he knew anything, but he was going to end up discussing Bad Gambler at some point, anyway.

"I went to speak with Bad Gambler. He's actually the reason I'm visiting you today."

Alile dropped his voice low, just in case the flutterpony and fairies that had seemingly shuffled off moments before hadn't shuffled quite as quickly as they'd expected.

"He said there was no evidence to link to anyone, nothing to prove who the killer is. He's afraid he's going to lose his job just like the guards when the last Head of Justice was murdered, Am'hatai provide guidance on the Road for him...

"He WILL lose his job," Regulus said matter-of-factly. Alile did a bit of a double-take, glancing to Regulus and then opening his mouth to speak again only to allow the words to be fully comprehended and to give Regulus another, now-open-mouthed look.

"But he didn't kill anyone...!"

"His duty as a guard was not done; someone or something got into the Head of Compassion's room, and it is the guards' job to keep them out. Not to mention, only the guards would have observed anything... they're the obvious suspects." Regulus gave a nonchalant shrug.

"Is that all you wanted to talk to me about...?"

"Bad Gambler NEEDS that job, Reggie. I can vouch for him, he wouldn't have hurt a fly if there was even a miniscule chance he might lose his position on the guard force. Even if he can't still be a guard for the higher levels, couldn't he be transferred to a different division? He could guard the meeting rooms. Or the dorms on the twelfth level. Heck, he could guard the greenhouse here," and Alile gave a sweeping motion to indicate their surroundings.

"No. And don't call me Reggie," Regulus simultaneously stomped a hoof loudly on the solid walkway and snorted. His brow was furrowed and it was clear by the way his pupils were constricting that he was not in the mood to be discussing it, and likely wouldn't be budging on the issue. Alile backed up a bit and looked defeated; he seemed to resemble a disciplined dog.

The Head of Justice then turned on his heel and trotted back in the direction of the greenhouse masters he had sent away. Alile watched him leave with a mix of confusion and desperation. He had never had Regulus deny him so immediately and seemingly with little thought or chance for discussion. It was as though his mind had been made up before Alile even bothered to approach him.

Then Alile remembered Bad Gambler's look of abjectness at the thought he might lose his job... it spurred Alile's hooves into a canter and he quickly caught up with Regulus, who merely turned an unconcerned ear in Alile's direction.

"Can't we discuss this? If there are clues to who murdered the Head of Compassion, then surely they could prove it wasn't Bad Gambler who did it...?"

"No discussion," Regulus gruffly returned, not even bothering to turn his head to look at Alile, "Even if I thought the guards who had neglected their duties somehow deserved to keep their jobs... I can't give you or them special treatment, and I certainly can't do so for BOTH of you."

"Feel free to grab another F'hassberry on your way out. Kindly let me get back to my work; the greenhouse masters have a lot to count before we are through." With that, Regulus spurred himself into a gallop that almost immediately took him away from Alile, who slowed his trot to a walk and then stopped altogether, simply looking plaintively after his friend.

He had no idea what he would do for Bad Gambler now... but, more than that, he was worried about Regulus. Or, at least his relationship with Regulus. He knew the Seven frequently ended up growing apart from those they knew before their election simply due to the stress and time-intensive nature of the job... but he didn't think Regulus would have changed so much as to simply disregard him.

Still, it would do no use making the Head of Justice more perturbed. Alile flicked his tail as he twisted around and followed the path back to the F'hassberry patch, this time crossing on the opposite side of it and picking himself a red F'hassberry, one he hadn't seen before. It tasted very similar to the blue F'hassberry, so similar he had to take a second look at the rind before continuing to eat... at least it was good. It didn't brighten his spirits all that much but it certainly helped fill his stomach.

A stomach, he then realized, he would have to humor on a long trek back down from the greenhouse level. He wasn't certain where he might try going next, but it would do no good to stay on the greenhouse level at all. He thanked the guards as he exited, trying not to waft a breath of F'hassberry smell to them lest they become jealous and request their own, and made his way to the descending stairs with a thousand thoughts whirling in his head. His stomach began to protest after the first few hoofsteps. 'This will be a long trip down' he ruefully thought to himself.


	27. Chapter 27 - The Newcomer

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Twenty-Seven - The Newcomer_

"Did you hear? Some pony showed up out of nowhere. He was all by himself!" The flutterpony speaking was one of Kibeth's classmates. As she sat quietly reading in the library, she overheard the excited half-whisper of the classmate before the other flutterpony leapt up out of her seat and raced out of the library. Kibeth shook her head... such undignified behavior in the library certainly wouldn't be tolerated. But nothing happened.

Curious, Kibeth looked further up from her book and craned her neck to peer in the direction of the desk of the library attendant. The attendant was not sitting there, as she had been a moment ago, diligently organizing books for their inevitable re-filing. Maybe she had wandered off down a long corridor of books to help another student. Kibeth casually glanced to the rows upon rows of bookcases that were situated across the desk from her, but the few she was able to look down did not contain the library custodian, either. As a matter of fact, Kibeth saw absolutely no ponies pulling or referencing materials in any of the hallways between the bookshelves.

Now puzzled, she flipped open the satchel at her side and tucked the book she had borrowed away in it, then lifted herself out of her seat and carefully trotted from one end of the library to the other, and back. Not only was the library custodian not visible, nor were there ponies lining the bookshelves as there frequently were... but there seemed to be not even a single other pony in the library with her at that time. Suddenly Kibeth felt self-conscious... and a bit frightened. She hadn't heard any sort of alarm of fire to signal ponies needed to exit. Had she been so engrossed in her book that the library had just closed with her inside it? It was awfully early for the library to be closing, she realized in immediate retrospect as she observed the porthole-like windows circling the room near the vaulted ceilings. Sunlight was still filtering in, showing the tiny dust specks hovering through the air in each of the quiet, seemingly solid beams that were cast.

Stepping carefully out into the hallway, Kibeth was immediately hit with the noise. The library had sound-proofed walls so that the echoing that plagued the rest of the giant tower would subside and make way for quiet contemplation. Outside, in the hallway, however, ponies all seemed to be racing for the descending stairs and even the portals that led out onto a balcony for the floor; walkways were simply teeming with a flood of shades of gray as they desperately worked like a river to reach whatever had gotten them so riled up. Kibeth tried to push through the crowds but had a hard time. Forfeiting the idea of even attempting to traverse the stairs, Kibeth shoved through the mob toward the spot of light that signalled one of the exits to the balcony, and after feeling like she would never see anything more than frantically moving ponyhide, ever again, for the rest of her life, she finally burst free out onto the balcony and into the warm, oppressive desert sun.

There was little room here, but thankfully most ponies had chosen to attempt to get a closer view further downstairs, so there was still a place on the balcony for Kibeth to take a stand on her hind legs and place her forehooves on the balcony railing. It took a moment to get her bearings, but soon she followed the wide-eyed gaze of the dozens of ponies around her, down to the entrance gates to the compound. The newcomer had apparently already passed the tower's main set of gates and was headed for the actual doors to the tower, following the thin pathway that led between a few sand dunes as though a pony might lose their way and not find the tower that rose miles into the sky, somehow.

"Look, is he a unicorn?" One of the flutterponies nearby pointed down at the figure as though the gesture would offer a better glimpse. However, the traveler was - intelligently - bedecked in a bright cream, almost blindingly white hooded cloak, probably to keep the sun off of himself. Kibeth thought she did see a slight shadow of a protrusion mussing the hood, but it could have been anything; he could have had a particularly tall up-do, for all anyone knew. Or perhaps the other flutterpony who had first commented just had better eyesight.

Kibeth pondered the newcomer. It was rare for travelers to even find the tower of Zith-lynd, let alone purposefully visit it... and few - if any? - travelers had ever made it through the desert alone. At the very least ponies tended to need companionship... it was said if you were left alone in the desert for even three days (and a trek from any of the nearby towns took longer than that, especially if you were weighed down by supplies), it was similar to being stuck in cave darkness for that length... a pony could go absolutely mad. And unlike in a cave, a mad pony in the desert would quickly succumb to any number of problems... the heat, first and foremost, but the nights also got hide-numbingly cold, there was little food or water available, and on top of the occasional desert predator, there were frequently marauders. Ponies just did not travel alone in the desert... hence the hubbub surrounding the newcomer.

It was even more surprising he had made it across the sands unharmed and hale because he seemed to be wheeling behind him a small cart of some sort. It wasn't nearly large enough to be a cart of a caravan - they had to be large enough to hold all sorts of wares as well as the supplies for the trip - but instead more resembled a snack vendor's cart with a short yoke. It had been strapped to a saddle-like object on the pony's back, barely visible under the cloak. The cart, unfortunately, was closed, a simple wooden thing with what looked to be a shiny metal latch and lock holding the lid down. Ponies all around her were leaping to speculation... it could hold anything from books to magic to strange new foods to even a dead body, one of the more morbid ponies suggested. The other ponies were quick to query why any pony would trek hundreds of miles across a dangerous desert just to bring a dead body to Zith-lynd, and their peer quickly closed his mouth so he wouldn't be subject to ridicule.

Probably the strangest part of the entire matter, though, was that the guards were letting him through. There was a quarantine on the tower, ever since the still-unexplained death of the Head of Compassion, and that had been grounds to turn away at least two caravans in the preceeding days. What did this traveler hold that the guards were allowing him through, and entrance to Zith-lynd? It gave Kibeth a slightly uneasy feeling.

"MOVE ALONG," an authoritative if not extremely loud, echoing voice suddenly shouted from behind the balcony-watchers; the vast majority of ponies were immediately startled and turned to find a guardspony with a megaphone strapped around his head. He looked not unlike a bird with a backward-facing beak, one that was smaller toward his mouth and larger the further it got away... but it was effective. The ponies surrounding her on the balcony all turned into a scramble of delicate legs, frantic faces, and quickly-fluttering wings. The crowd dissipated almost as quickly as the one in the library had, leaving only Kibeth and a couple of other flutters to stare mutely at the guard.

"What's going on-" Kibeth gestured down to the approaching traveler.

"MOVE ALONG," the guard interrupted with another shout, and made to step out onto the balcony. That was enough to stir the other two stock-still flutterponies into action and they quickly raced around the guard and up the ascending staircase nearby. Kibeth lowered her head and apologetically, sheepishly trotted around the guard - who watched her with unblinking eye every hoofstep of the way - and quickly raced back down the nearly-ghost-empty hallway, back to the library door she had just come through.

* * *

The discussion about the newcomer continued through the day. Kibeth was surprised. In her years living in the tower, she had never seen such a fuss about a visitor; granted this one had arrived under strange circumstances, but she didn't think it was something the entire tower was going to get riled up over. Still, even she was excited, and absently wondered if the talk about the newcomer would still be going on in the cafeteria. Feeling a bit antsy, she tried to focus again on her studies, as the class only had about a half-hour left before she would be allowed to visit the cafeteria and scope out the gossip.

When the Professor finally opened the door and stepped aside for the class to rush out into the hallway, Kibeth made a beeline for the cafeteria. She could tell it was crowded before she had even entered it... it was laid out in such a way that there were separate entrances for ponies picking up food, and ones for ponies just coming in to sit, chat, and relax. The door for ponies grabbing food was propped open and a line bled out into the hallway. Kibeth sighed. She had an apple in her satchel but had been hoping for a better lunch... but she simply didn't have time to be standing in that line all afternoon. So, as some of the hungry ponies in the lunch line watched on, she passed through the other, vacant doors and immediately began to peer around for a seat.

She spotted Snowflake sitting at a mostly-vacant table and immediately turned to head in his direction. He had apparently been let out of his class early; he was already sitting down with a cafeteria tray filled with food. As she approached, Kibeth tried to keep her mind from wandering to whether the young colt might offer her some of his lunch.

"Myshna, how is it going?" Kibeth greeted him as she plopped down in a seat at his table. Startled, he looked up, and then looked a bit disappointed when he realized who had just sat down.

"M-m-myshna, it g-goes w-w-w-well," he replied unenthusiastically, before immediately taking a giant bite out of one of the muffins he'd acquired for himself. He began to chew and seemed to be watching Kibeth with a look of 'I can't talk, I'm too busy eating'. Kibeth looked a little disappointed, but pulled her apple from her satchel and set it on the table before continuing.

"Have you heard about the newcomer? I got a look at him as he was coming through the gates..."

Snowflake seemed to perk up a bit at this news, and he nodded as he quickly tried to swallow the bite he'd just recently taken.

"He was wearing a white cloak and dragging this cart behind him... but that is really all I saw," Kibeth concluded, with an apologetic tone to her voice acknowledging that the information did little.

"I s-saw him," Snowflake blurted out before choking on a particularly large crumb of muffin that attempted to pass down his trachea rather than his esophagus. Coughing and wheezing, he finally dislodged the carrotcake-flavored crumb, and then eagerly turned to his glass of water and partook as though he were dehydrated. His eyes were watering when he'd finally finished and turned to reply to Kibeth. She interrupted him.

"Are you okay? You don't look so good..."

"F-f-fine, just t-tried to b-b-breathe it is all..." he raspily replied, stopping for a short cough in the middle to further clear his throat.

"I saw him. W-w-when he c-came in, the g-g-guards esc-c-orted him th-th-through the hallway. I w-w-was r-r-running an errand f-for my Professor s-s-so I was the only p-p-pony not in class when th-they w-w-walked him through the th-th-third floor."

"Did you get a good look at him?" Kibeth said, maybe a little too loudly as ponies around her turned their heads to peer annoyedly at her.

"Did you see him?" she repeated, a bit lower.

"H-h-he s-s-still had on th-th-the cloak b-but I'm p-p-pretty s-sure it's a s-s-stallion, and he l-looked to h-h-have a h-h-horn," Snowflake nodded a bit, and continued, "H-he had the c-c-c-cart with him. It l-looked r-r-r-really old."

"Really old, like an heirloom, or really old, like something magical..?" Kibeth asked, already knowing Snowflake would have no way of knowing such a thing but foolishly hoping he would be able to pluck the answer from thin air. Unfortunately for her, he just shrugged.

"Do you think they'll make an announcement about it?" Kibeth asked, gesturing upward as a sign she was talking about the Six. Snowflake took another bite - this time a more reasonable one - from his muffin, and then shook his head slowly.

Kibeth heaved a sigh. Snowflake was probably right... there had been enough of a clamor without the Six giving in to the curiosity by highlighting the new guest's arrival. He had almost certainly been taken to the Six for questioning and, should he be staying at the tower, to the Council for orientation.

This gave Kibeth an idea. If the newcomer was going for orientation... perhaps Dream Keeper would know something about him. Suddenly inspired, Kibeth glanced at Snowflake's still-mostly-full lunch platter - he certainly wouldn't be coming along with her - then thanked him for his time, leapt out of her seat at the table, and trotted off toward the stairs. She just hoped she would have the time to climb the tower and reach Dream Keeper, and then come back down, before her next class started.

* * *

Dream Keeper had been waiting several hours, now. The newcomer - whomever he was - had arrived early in the day, thankfully, or she might have been up 'till the middle of the evening trying to finish his paperwork. Unfortunately, he had been whisked up to the very top of the tower to explain himself to the Six, and the interrogation of sorts was taking much longer than even she had expected it to take. She began to wonder if maybe the Six had given the newcomer to a different member of the Council for orientation when a knock came at her door.

"Myshna and greetings, please come in," she called from her stance behind her office's large desk, where she was peering down at a particular bit of paperwork for zoning in the greenhouse. She peeked up from it in order to observe whomever was entering as the door squeaked open.

"Myshna and greetings," a small voice called from the door.

"Come on in, Kibeth," Dream smiled pleasantly as she noted it was not the newcomer, but Alile's filly, likely come for a visit, possibly to request new classes. Kibeth was almost ravenous about her classes, constantly requesting new ones... it almost seemed the moment a new set of paperwork was finally processed, she came in requesting more. Dream was pretty sure that wasn't what this visit was about, as Kibeth - looking worn out and in a hurry - quickly trotted into her room and took an eager seat across the desk from her.

"What can I do for y-"

"Do you know anything about the newcomer?" Kibeth peeped out, though she was clearly fighting to look unabashed.

"I can't say that I do," Dream responded apologetically, "and even if I did, really, it's not your business, Kibeth. You should know that. You'll find out about the newcomer when everyone else does."

Kibeth practically deflated in her chair, slumping back and looking, for all intents and purposes, as though the light of hope that burned within her had been eternally quenched, despite the situation really not being that serious.

"Is there maybe going to be an announcement about it, then?" she immediately perked up again, quite the emotional roller-coaster.

"No, I don't think-" once again Dream Keeper was interrupted, this time by a second knocking at her door. The door hadn't closed fully behind Kibeth, and slowly it creaked open to reveal the pony beyond.

"Myshna and greetings, good sir. Please, come in. Have a seat. I was just bidding farewell to my young friend, here," Dream Keeper's gaze flickered to Kibeth, who had already slid out of the chair she'd occupied and begun slinking toward the door.

"Myshna, is it?" an uncertain-sounding, heavily masculine voice rumbled from the other side, "That's an interesting greeting, I hope I've pronounced it correctly."

Kibeth peered carefully around the door, and looked up.

Standing on the other side was a large unicorn stallion. He was a deep red, crimson like blood, but with a strangely clashing mane and tail of the palest, softest, cherry-blossom pink. Around his neck and across his back hung a cream-to-white cloak, the hood falling around his shoulders, and the whole clasped at his chest with a pewter disc, decorated with knotwork and inlaid with four tiny rubies.

Kibeth stared up at him and he down at her for a lengthy moment before Dream Keeper cleared her throat. Startled, Kibeth practically bleated like a sheep and then scrambled around the newcomer as he entered Dream's office; the flutterpony filly ran a ways down the hallway before turning around. She watched as the newcomer slowly shut the door behind himself, and then she very quietly, with strict attention to her hoofsteps, re-approached Dream's office door and carefully pressed a single ear to the thick wood. The sounds inside were muffled and she strained desperately to hear them.

* * *

"Yes, Myshna," Dream Keeper continued, "My name is Dream Keeper."

"Good to meet you, Dream Keeper, I'm Esque," the unicorn stallion replied as he took a seat in Kibeth's recently-vacated chair, lounging despite being in proper company. Dream Keeper tried to ignore it.

"I am a member of the Gray Council, and I assume the Six have sent you to me today so that you can receive your orientation...?"

"Well, I did tell them I'm not staying permanently, but they requested I stay to help teach the students Twilight magic. I'm to understand you don't have a Twilight mage?"

Dream Keeper slowly shook her head, but Esque just grinned.

"I told them I would need to take a month's leave now and then, but that I would be happy to stay for a little while. Anything to get out of that desert, right?" and he let out a guffaw that practically rattled Dream Keeper's desk; it certainly rattled her nerves, but once again she glossed over it.

She peered down at her paperwork. She'd worked on getting the proper forms together, but in truth she felt she was forgetting a couple... earlier she had tossed all of the forms into the top drawer of a filing cabinet, not at all neatly, because the Six had called for the tower to be quarantined. Now, all of a sudden, they were allowing this unicorn stallion passage. Dream Keeper partly wondered if it was because he provided an easy solution to their problem of lacking a Twilight teacher... no need to send troops out to the nearest city and search for weeks or months. Dream Keeper supposed this could be a good thing; it would mean the students needing their classes - like Kibeth, she recalled - would be getting them sooner rather than later.

"We'll be needing to get you a room to stay in. Do you prefer warmth or cold?" Dream Keeper whipped out a chart showing the vacant rooms in the tower. The ones toward the top of the tower tended to stay warmer, while the ones toward the bottom tended to stay cooler.

"Whatever you think is best," Esque nonchalantly replied as he began to peer around her room. Nonplussed, Dream simply checked off a room somewhere near the middle.

"And how much experience do you have with teaching magic?"

"Oh, none at all," Esque laughed, "but I've been through lots of teaching courses, if that helps. So... I know the other side of it, at least," he followed up with a shrug. Dream Keeper pursed her lips.

"How frequently will you need to be taking this month's leave you speak of?" She shuffled some papers around, uncovered the one for leave of absence that she had been searching for.

"Four months out of the year; after every two months, basically," Esque leaned back and began to tap his hooves on the armrests of the chair he sat in. Dream Keeper lifted an eyeridge; that didn't leave a lot of room for studying for the students. She tried to bite her tongue and swallow her pride, though... twilight magic users, she grudgingly admitted to herself, were few, far between, and sometimes hard to convince to leave whatever cushy jobs they had set themselves up in to spend their lives living in a tower in the middle of the desert teaching their magic to children.

"Will you be needing any accommodations? A salary of some sort for your visits? Specific requests for your room, any dietary restrictions we should know about, any allergies we should be aware of?" Dream Keeper slowly drew her eyes down the line of things to check and checked them off as Esque responded.

"No, no special accommodations, just the room... a stipend for my visits might be nice... no allergies or dietary restrictions, although..." he trailed off.

"Yes?"

"Do you have F'hassberries?"

"Most certainly," Dream Keeper nodded affirmatively, "We grow several colors, and they are occasionally available in the cafeteria. You can ask the servers there when the next batch will be coming in."

She looked back down to her papers, shuffled through a few more of them. Esque, meanwhile, had settled just enough in his chair to look content, and seemed to be dreaming of the F'hassberries she had just told him about. At once, though, he perked up and leaned forward again.

"How many students will I be teaching?" he asked, suddenly looking more interested than he had in the rest of the time he'd been in her office. Surprised, Dream Keeper shifted some of the papers on her desk, uncovered a small roster-like book, flipped to a page somewhere in the middle and cleared her throat.

"It looks like we have about six students who need to learn twilight magic. They're at varying levels of proficiency and all seem to have different talents. I don't know how many of the talents of twilight magic you're able to use, but I'm sure the students can use any help they can get."

Esque nodded, thought for a moment, and then responded, "Well, I know telekinesis... a little bit of telepathy... and I've dabbled in shadowforms."

"Shadowforms?" Dream Keeper cocked her head, puzzled.

"Oh yes, um, making shapes out of shadows. Like..."

Esque turned to look at the shadow cast by a stack of papers sitting next to Dream Keeper's desk lamp. The shadow was vaguely triangular-shaped, but the more Esque looked at it, it seemed to balloon out into a square, and then smush and roll itself into a near-perfect circle. The circle split into ten tiny pie-portions, which began to dance merrily across her desk, even "standing up" into a hazy, see-through, only-half-visible parade of tiny shapes until finally they dissolved and the shadow that had disappeared from her stack of papers was, all of a sudden, returned.

"Impressive," Dream Keeper blinked, "I'm sure the students will be able to learn plenty from you."

"When will I be starting?"

Dream Keeper was about to respond when the thick, heavy ringing of the Duskbell pealed through the office and the rest of the tower. Surprisingly, Esque did not look at all startled; most visitors practically leapt to the ceiling the first time they heard the Duskbell or Dawnbell, but he simply peered around, finally looking upward and then back at Dream Keeper with a curious look on his face.

"The Duskbell. It means the end of the day's labors... which means you certainly won't be starting today. Your room should be ready, though, allow me to show you there. Then we can head to the cafeteria and I will introduce you to the kitchen staff. Do you think you will be able to begin teaching within the week? I still need to rearrange a few of the students' schedules."

"Most certainly," Esque nodded, then stood and gave a deep, respectful bow to Dream Keeper, who felt herself nearly blushing as he swept back up, his handsome hair falling perfectly in his face and a charming smile extending to her almost as much as her hoof as he requested her assistance with the gentlemanly gesture.

"Why, thank you," Dream Keeper took the hoof and stood up, herself, moving out from behind the desk.

Kibeth, outside the door, could hear shuffling... she was relatively certain the stranger - Esque was his name - had stood up, and with the Duskbell ringing, it was not long 'till they came out of the office and headed down for dinner. Kibeth lifted herself into the air with her wings so as to make a quiet exit, and then quickly buzzed down the hallway and swung around the corner that would lead her to the descending stairs just as Esque opened the door to Dream Keeper's office.

He peered out, down the hallway, as if expecting something. "What is it?" Dream Keeper asked, curious, but he shook his head.

"Nothing, I just... um... though there would be more of a rush to the cafeteria. I only see a couple of ponies..."

"Oh, sometimes it takes ponies a few moments to wrap their things up. If the hallway is empty, we should take our chance to head up to your room," with a gesture of her muzzle Dream Keeper pointed in the direction of the ascending staircase. Esque made his way over and peered back over his shoulder at the descending staircase with a furrowed brow for just a moment before turning and making his way upward, allowing Dream Keeper to guide him from in front.

* * *

The delay had made Kibeth miss her entire class. She wasn't all that fond of the class on weaponry, anyway, but she knew neither the teacher nor Alile would be happy about it. Alile would be less so if she let the mistake lie until her quarterly report card was delivered... he much preferred being told up-front. That would mean attempting to find him in the crowd of the cafeteria after the Duskbell rang; ponies would be lining up for dinner, either to eat in the cafeteria or take back up to their rooms. She remembered Alile had said something about not wanting to do dishes again, so he would likely be there... but with the cafeteria filled with hundreds of all-gray flutterponies, Alile wouldn't be the easiest to pick out.

Kibeth bypassed the line for food and swept through the doors immediately into the cafeteria seating. The tables were mostly long rectangles lined up parallel to one another, with a few circular tables here or there for smaller company. She peered out over the crowd, but before she could even start singly analyzing each mop of mane, a waving hoof caught her attention; Alile was a few tables away and trying to get her attention. With a smile, she trotted over and took a hasty seat. Alile looked surprised, while at the same time offering her one of the baked potatoes off his tray.

"Why are you so out of brea-"

"I skipped my Weaponry class today to visit Dream Keeper; she was giving an orientation to the newcomer," Kibeth hissed lowly in response. Alile furrowed his brow and leaned in closer.

"What was that?"

"I skipped my Weaponry class today because the newcomer was in Dream Keeper's office. I visited her to check him out."

Alile, apparently woefully under-informed, looked surprised there was a newcomer at all. He cocked his head.

"I thought the tower was under lock-down...?"

"The Six let him in because he's a Twilight user. He's going to be teaching classes!" This last part Kibeth spoke at a less-than-low-toned level and a few ponies sitting around the two turned to give them irritated glances. Kibeth gave them an irritated glance back; it was a cafeteria, if they thought they were going to have peace and quiet, they were clearly in the wrong place, despite Kibeth's earlier whispering.

Alile looked shocked; he dropped his half-eaten potato out of his mouth.

"He just... showed up here?" He asked incredulously. Kibeth nodded, solemnly, lips pursed, eyes wide, and shoulders shrugged in a 'you got me' sort of look.

"Well... I... guess it's good that some ponies will finally be getting their magic courses," Alile concluded, still sounding a little uneasy about the apparent arrangements but with no obvious recourse.

Kibeth nodded, but didn't respond. The problem was... she had yet to tell Alile that she would be taking Twilight magic classes. She was going to have to tell him sometime... but not in the middle of the cafeteria, if she could help it. She suddenly realized she probably should have waited until he had come home to their shared room before telling him, so she could explain everything at once.

Suddenly, the cafeteria became hushed. Alile seemed to be looking beyond Kibeth. As Kibeth turned, she noticed Dream Keeper guiding Esque into the cafeteria. It took only a pointed glare from Dream Keeper that swept over the whole of the ponies seated there before conversations piped back up, but it was clear the mood of the cafeteria had been subdued and several ponies still stared as Esque made his way through the line for food. It was honestly hard not to... He was easily several hands taller than any of the flutterponies, being a muscled unicorn stallion, and he was of course much more colorful than the majority of the Zith-lynd inhabitants. He simply begged to be gawked at. Even Alile's eyes were following him, and Kibeth sighed.

"We should eat," she took a bite out of her potato and tried to pay the hubbub little mind. Alile passed her over a small muffin he'd also picked out for her. She took a taste; it was clearly zucchini, one of the few muffin types she wasn't very fond of. She passed it back to Alile and he gave her a slight frown, but took it back and continued to eat his potato. Kibeth ate slightly more slowly, as she ran over the discussion she'd be having with Alile in her mind.

Suddenly, though several moments had passed, Kibeth heard a familiar voice calling her. It was Dream Keeper. The mare was waving from her spot at the end of the lunch line, where Esque was just grabbing the last of his meal. They both came over toward the table. Kibeth slouched a bit, suddenly a mix of embarrassed and frightened and trying to hide... but as soon as Alile heard Dream Keeper approaching, he waved her over - though his eyes were still on Esque.

"M... Myshna and greetings," Esque attempted as he took a seat. Alile grinned.

"Myshna, newcomer. My name is Alile."

"I am Esque... I will be the new teacher of Twilight for the students. I hear your Kibeth will be my star pupil."

Kibeth stopped mid-bite of her potato, and her eyes grew wide... almost as wide as Alile's, though more frightened than incredulous.

Dream Keeper suddenly realized the issue. She had told Kibeth about the arrangement she had made with the Seven - before they had become the Six again - and had requested she speak to her guardian about it. That had been months ago; clearly Kibeth had been remiss in her duty and this was the first Alile was hearing about it. Alile was slack-jawed.

"I... I meant to tell you," Kibeth started, apologetically.

"You don't have Twilight powers. Why will you be taking lessons in Twilight?" Alile outright denied her.

"... because I do." Kibeth then replied matter-of-factly, clearly a little offended that he would so directly disagree with her.

Watching the discussion spiral slightly out-of-control, Dream Keeper decided to step in.

"I found out about her powers from Mistblossom, Alile; she caught Kibeth levitating a piece of fruit. She needs lessons and she didn't want to have to worry you about it. I knew there were other ponies in the tower needing lessons in the Twilight discipline, so I asked the Seven to acquire a new professor... and then Esque showed up today, like a gift from Am'hatai herself."

Esque looked a little uncomfortable at that admission and chuckled, "I'm no gift, I was just a bit of a lost traveler I guess!"

"I do look forward to teaching Kibeth," he quickly followed up, trying to fill the gap of slack-jawed and upset silence. Finally, Alile felt the need to speak again.

"... I'm glad Dream Keeper has kept you in mind," he sighed as he admitted. He felt a little as though she and Kibeth were working behind his back, but he supposed he HAD gotten a little snappy with Kibeth about her magical training. It was only natural she would seek out another adult to help her with the issue. Especially since he certainly wasn't her father; she was only his responsibility because his name was on a piece of paper, she was easily anyone else in the tower's equal responsibility.

Alile quickly finished his meal - even the zucchini muffin Kibeth had passed up - and then bowed to Esque, "I must be going, I need to get ready for evening rounds. It was good to meet you; myshna, and may Am'hatai's eyes watch over you." He excused himself, deposited his garbage and tray, and was gone from the cafeteria in a matter of moments.

Kibeth's upset look gave way to a mix of sadness and exasperation.

"It's all right, he'll come around," Dream Keeper offered.

"Besides, I'm sure you'll have plenty of fun in my class. You should be starting within the week," Esque added. Kibeth gave a slight smile and nod, finished the last bite of her potato, and gave the two a similar, apologetic bow.

"I hope you have a good evening. Welcome to Zith-lynd, and myshna," Kibeth offered as she turned away. Esque watched her go. His face was blank.

Dream Keeper shrugged, "I'm sure Alile will be all right eventually, and Kibeth really is a good student. All of the students you will have are. We - the Gray Council and the Seven - are really appreciative that you would be willing to teach them, they're so desperately needing guidance."

"No trouble," Esque responded casually, his eyes still on the door out which Kibeth had departed moments before, "I feel like I'm exactly where I need to be."


	28. Chapter 28 - The First Magic Class

**Author's Note, to all who have read this far: Chapter 28 begins my editing of my third year of NaNoWriMo writings into this story (in 2011). I still wasn't sure where I wanted to go with this story that year, and I believe it shows; I end up getting off track and being more concerned with word count, and there will probably be some portions of the story from here on out that could easily be edited out. This is where I need my readers' help. Constructive criticism - both in review and in PM form - is greatly appreciated, as I am making notes on what parts of this story can stay, and what parts need to go. Thank you in advance for any assistance in this area! Now, on with the chapter...**

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Twenty-Eight - The First Magic Class_

In the end, Alile took the entire week before Kibeth's first class in magic to get accustomed to the idea that she had been given a gift in Twilight magic. It was a rare magic that tended to get itself mixed up in many less-than-savory situations... many of the worst, most twisted wizards seemed to dabble in it. It was hard to control, and very little was understood about it... and none of this was what Alile wanted for Kibeth's life. She had been the subject of enough ridicule without being singled out as a Twilight magic-user. It was so strange that she seemed to excited, so relieved to have had it made known... Alile spent every night wondering if he'd raised her properly. But then he recalled all of the times that she'd eagerly asked him if he could guess what her magic might be... the scads of magic classes she'd written marks next to during her Second Year sign-ups... it was obvious she'd been dying to find out what her specialty was all of this time. Perhaps it didn't matter to her what it ended up being, just that it finally _was_.

He had wrestled with these thoughts in much of his free time. Often during that week Kibeth had come to him with a question only to be simply ignored or overlooked. She had begun to give up hope that he would ever change his mind about her... but her mind was so preoccupied with what her upcoming classes would be like, she couldn't afford the energy it took to worry about Alile. He would figure things out with her eventually; she tried to put faith in Dream Keeper's words, as the mare had rarely steered her wrong.

Kibeth had other things to worry about, though she hadn't admitted it to anyone yet. She was upset that Snowflake hadn't spoken with her since they'd talked about her tattoo. She hadn't realized how much she enjoyed talking with Snowflake during their study sessions and walks to the cafeteria... and she had few other friends. No peer to share her accomplishments with and no shoulder to cry on that wasn't her patronizing father's. She pined over the friendship as the days went on, until one day when she was caught drifting off to daydreams in the middle of class.

The teacher's stern glance straightened her spine in her seat and she flushed red. She wasn't accustomed to being singled out in the classroom and shrunk in her desk the moment all eyes turned back to the lesson. Where was her head? She quickly realized she would need to talk to someone about her problems... someone who didn't always seem so busy. She tried not to let her mind wander during the rest of the lesson, but the moment her class let out, her mind started sorting through the list of ponies she knew in Zith'lynd.

It didn't take long before she remembered the kind flutterpony mare from the garden... Mistblossom. The mare never seemed to leave the garden for long, and she always just seemed to be strolling around... Kibeth didn't want to seem presumptuous, but it was possible she might have the time and a willing ear..? Especially after she had tried to help Kibeth with questions about her powers. Luckily, she didn't have another class for an hour... it was lunch break, but she wasn't feeling particularly hungry.

This time the stained glass windows were a blur as Kibeth pushed past them. The garden hit her with its serene scent and she stopped in her tracks for a moment. It was almost like the garden was a completely different world. It demanded her respect, and demanded she stop for a stroll. Maybe it was magic..? She tried to close her eyes and feel it... but it just felt like warm desert air, albeit a bit wetter. She smelled sweet flowers, bitter plants, and the always-underlying perfume of tilled, rich earth. But no magic; she heaved a sigh.

"Hello there, little miss," a familiar voice spoke up, startling her just as she was about to start forward down the path again.

"Mistblossom! I... was just coming to see you," Kibeth stepped carefully down the cobbles and around a stand of short trees to greet the flutter mare, who had just set a watering can down at her hooves.

"Do you have the time..?"

"For a chat?," she seemed to ask knowingly, and Kibeth nodded quietly in response.

"Come, help me water the lilies... then we can retire to the back of the garden." She motioned to the nearby gardening cart, filled with all manner of utensils including another full watering can. Kibeth obediently retrieved one of the heavy cans and carefully began to water the lilies. It was more difficult than Mistblossom made it look; while the older mare gracefully dipped her neck and the can cooperated as if in dance, blessing the begging lilies below, Kibeth stumbled over her hooves and dumped a gallon on a single lily plant, drenching it and loosing a few flower petals. Mistblossom's eyes widened a moment, but she carefully set down her can and stepped over to the younger filly, offering a supporting hoof to the can so it balanced enough to pour water at the right rate. Kibeth watched carefully as the ground became wet, then pulled back on the can and looked up at Mistblossom in awe for a moment.

"I can't even water flowers right..!" Kibeth whinnied suddenly, a strangled cry, before rushing off toward the back of the garden trailing tears.

Mistblossom pursed her lips. She wasn't used to dealing with children but she was patient. She didn't fully understand Kibeth's outburst but knew there must have been a reason for it. She would just need to figure out what the reason was. She turned and finished watering the lilies, giving the filly a little time to herself.

* * *

Finally, Kibeth heard the soft echo of approaching hooves. She was still sniffling, but the hiccuping, chest-wracking sobs had stopped a moment before. She looked away from the path Mistblossom was surely coming down, suddenly feeling extremely embarrassed about her outburst. She could feel the mare approaching and see her shadow on the path, and she cringed a little bit, turning away.

Mistblossom tutted and took a seat next to Kibeth. "It's okay if you'd like to talk," she offered softly.

There was silence as Kibeth tried to choose her words.

"I feel like I don't do anything right," Kibeth heaved out in a breath as she turned back to look, puffy-eyed, exhausted, up to Mistblossom.

"I'm terrible at maths, and I haven't chosen a magic yet... or a virtue. I just can't choose. And then I couldn't get the right tattoo. And then I messed things up with Snowflake, and he's mad at me and he won't speak to me... and now neither will Alile, because I messed that up, too."

Mistblossom let the words hang in silence a moment. She placed a hoof on Kibeth's shoulder and smiled supportively. She knew how much of a crisis everything seemed to be at that young an age... and what sort of crises Kibeth had been through, already. She didn't want to give the easy answer and say it was all right and not to worry about it, that things would get better or were meant to be the way they were...

"Sometimes, when you do what's right for you, it's not what's right for everything else in your life. You haven't done wrong if you've done right by yourself. And if you do your best, you've done right by yourself, as well."

"Sometimes the best is all you can do..." Mistblossom's eyes fell to the filly's tattoo-markings, tracing the patterns. Something about them seemed distantly familiar, but it was lost in the fog of years of accumulated plant-knowlege... it was too far gone a memory, no matter how it seemed to nag at her mind.

"... for what it's worth, I think the gray looks lovely on you; it will go with anything you decide to wear..." and with this, Mistblossom plucked a bright orange hibiscus from a nearby bush and placed it behind Kibeth's ear.

Kibeth looked tired and a bit weak, but sated. Sometimes all it took was a good cry. She peered dully at the lush garden around her and started to feel a bit better.

"Do you have anything to... drink..?" she asked tentatively.

"There is a well-pump 'round the corner, here; follow me, I will pump it for you," Mistblossom grinned gaily, standing up lightly on her hooves and then sprinting around the corner with a 'bet you can't catch me' look in her eyes. Kibeth was struck a moment with awe at the older flutter's playfulness, but she soon jumped to her hooves and sprinted around the corner, wings aflutter with curiosity.

In the corner of a tiny, rounded clearing, overhung by a few weeping willows, there stood a stout black pump-handle. Mistblossom had her forehooves on the handle, and pressed lightly down on it to demonstrate; a tiny spurt of crystal-clear water leapt from the mouth of the machine. It spurred Kibeth on and soon she had her greedy lips under the opening.

Mistblossom pressed carefully on the handle and a small stream flowed out... drizzled... and slowed to a stop. The pump had been short; Kibeth looked up at Mistblossom inquisitively, clearly wondering if there would be more. Mistblossom let off the handle and pulled a lever in the pump. A spring-mechanism pushed the handle back into the air, all the way to the highest position, where the flutter would need to fly to get to it. She pushed the lever back in and flew to the handle once more, trying to press lightly down on the handle. A small stream issued forth again... until Mistblossom's wet hooves betrayed her, slipping on the spout's handle. She caught herself on it, pressing down with some force and suddenly releasing a gush of water into Kibeth's face.

Both ponies shrieked, with Mistblossom falling off the pump-handle and Kibeth rolling aside from the torrential downspout.

As they both sat up and Kibeth tried to flick the wet bangs out of her face, they looked at each other. Mistblossom put a hoof up to her muzzle and tried to contain a short 'snerk'. Kibeth shrugged and giggled a little, and Mistblossom broke down in return; the two laughed together for several minutes before returning to Mistblossom's home to dry the filly off before she returned to her classes.

* * *

That night was the final night before her first magic class... and Kibeth was clearly a bundle of nerves. Alile had cooked them dinner and watched as the filly, wide-eyed, had poked at her buttered greens and shunned her mashed potatoes. She'd seemed to pale several shades of gray from what he normally knew. Some of it felt like punishment... for his recent silence, or recent absence, he wasn't sure. Both, probably, and it was something he deserved blame for. He had, truthfully, just been avoiding the issue. But, finally, as he watched her lying in her room and zoning out into the ceiling, he could stand it no longer.

"I'm sorry we didn't speak about this sooner. I know you're eager to start your classes, and I don't want you to feel as though I disapprove of them. I..." he sighed a bit, "I guess I don't."

"You don't?" she asked flatly, not even bothering to look at him.

"I don't want you to have Twilight magic," he started out, a bit forcefully, then calmed himself, "... but you have it. You should... know how to use it. It's not something I can teach you. I can't really teach you much, anymore."

"You could teach me how to use weapons," Kibeth looked down from the ceiling to peer in his direction. Alile looked momentarily surprised but shook his head. "Not at your age; not yet."

"Well... some day," she said, maybe wistfully, before returning her gaze to the ceiling.

Alile stared at her for another moment. He normally had a hard enough time analyzing his own confusing feelings... trying to analyze Kibeth's was much more than he could handle. He had felt far in over his head at many a time during his raising of this filly, and this felt just as bad... maybe worse. He didn't have the magic she did; he had been through magic classes, but he couldn't fathom what she felt. He desperately wanted to, but he had no real point of reference... he had none of his own magic.

It was one less thing that connected him to Kibeth, and every new thing felt like a rip in the fabric of the tiny family they'd formed.

"I know you'll do fine in your classes," he suddenly blurted out, trying desperately to sound reassuring. He DID know she would, but he wasn't entirely used to reassuring ponies.

"... what if I mess up and kill everyone?"

Alile tried not to let his surprise register on his face. She had rolled over to look at him sullenly, as though she knew he wouldn't entertain her fears for a moment. He swallowed against a tense feeling in his throat.

"Well... I don't think your magic is quite strong enough for that, nor do I think it's the kind that can kill everyone... unless you want it to. Do you want it to kill everyone..?"

"No!" Kibeth shouted almost instantaneously back, but she still looked incredulous.

"Magic may not always do what you want it to do... but you're not going to kill anyone, Kibeth," Alile soothed, approaching her bedside and offering to nuzzle her. She coldly accepted the gesture of closeness but still seemed stuck in her own distress. He pursed his lips, uncertain that there was any more her could do.

"Just let me know if you need anything... I'll be down at the gatehouse for a little while." He tried to close the door quietly behind himself. Hopefully he would remember to return and wake up before she went off for her magic class.

* * *

In fact, Alile was still asleep, long after Kibeth had awakened to the Dawnbell, gathered her texts, eaten breakfast (and set some aside for him), and scuttled out the door to class. He only awoke with a snort when the door slammed as she left; she had such a habit of slamming the door! Alile felt a little bleary-headed, but when the smell of cooked breakfast wafted in, he managed to rouse himself enough to ready for his own duties. He regretted missing Kibeth, but they'd also made a deal to meet at lunch time... he would, of course, be there.

Kibeth hadn't gotten much sleep. Paired with her new destination, the world seemed suddenly new to her. As she wandered down the hallway to the first set of downward-leading staircases, she admired a painting on a wall of a flower-filled vase. Had she ever noticed how lovely the glow of purple from the glass in the light was? Had she ever noticed they were lilies..? She passed by a window... had the sun always been so bright, or were the windows newly-cleaned?

She was headed to a new classroom today, and would be traveling down halls she had never traveled down. Indeed, when she came to the floor of the magic class she was assigned to, and stepped through the double-doors of the department into the barren-seeming hallway, she was awestruck by the simplicity of it all. The walls were off-white in color, and only lightly textured. There were no paintings to be seen... nor were there even windows. No crown moulding as in some of the finer halls and rooms of the tower. There were standard sconces on the wall at conservative intervals, and words on a small brass plaque pointed her down the hall to a dull mahogany door that looked like it housed a broom closet... not a magic-teaching room.

What did she expect? Well, at least some wild colors... in her mind's eye she pictured bright fuchsia walls with blue stripes or spots. Magicians always chose the best fabrics; she imagined glossy sashes, textured swaths, golden netting and silver tulle draped liberally along the walls. She had expected to see patterns of stars on the walls, flickering from the magic within them. Doors that had knockers you could have a conversation with. A castle-like setting where a mighty wizard would raise his apprentice... not a plain, tidy, academic hallway.

Inside the class, there were already two other ponies seated. The room had not much more than a wide podium, short table, and a handful of comfortable beanbag-like chairs for the students to be seated on. Kibeth found herself already comfortable in a forest green bag, her satchel of books leaning up next to her. She had to admit that it was comfortable, even as she looked up to see their teacher, Esque, looking down at her from his podium.

"Are you three the only ones who will be showing up?" He asked, his voice ringing with authority.

They looked at each other... Kibeth, the flutterpony filly, took in the flutter stallions she had been seated with. The first flutter was the palest lint-gray-blue, like a faded stormcloud, with a white mop of thick, unruly mane, and bright green eyes. The second was a darker, dingy pink, with a rose-pink mane and eyes of the deepest azure.

"Kibeth," Esque stated, and she looked up at him. He looked down at her expectantly, and she blinked once, twice.

"I'm here," she said faintly, and he huffed and looked to the gray-blue stallion.

"Ruvan."

"I'm here," the stallion gulped.

"And... Ulpiminik."

"I'm... here," the other flutter offered tentatively, "... but you can call me Ulp."

"Yes," Esque mused, "... Ulp."

"So. I am told you all have a magic that falls in the realm of twilight," he began gruffly, "This is no laughing matter nor is it something to brag about. This is quite serious."

"All of the terrors of our time come from the use of twilight magic, you see. It can control the intangible; it's a force that cannot be reckoned with. It can give the power to move with the mind what no pony can move with four hooves. It can give the power to control others... to take away their choice. It can give the power to create and to destroy. It can manipulate shadow, it can manipulate light. Twilight is the very fabric of our entire world, and you've been given the gift and curse of being able to manipulate this fragile, and rarely-accessed fabric."

"I tell you this now," he paused a moment, "... because it is important you understand the responsibility you've been given. When no other pony can control you, you will have to control yourself. You will be the only thing to wield your power, and you must wield it with every necessary precaution."

"So, today, we will be reading from the book..."

Kibeth raised a hoof in the air inquisitively.

"Yes, Kibeth?"

"I've already read the book, do I have to read it again?"

Esque lowered his lids, showing a bit of exasperation.

"Can you tell me about the passage on preparation to use magic?"

"Uhhh..." Kibeth reached for her book and received a glare from Esque. Well, if that was how it was going to be...

"If you have time to prepare for magic, there are certain steps you can take," she began, unsteadily, trying to remember the basics of the steps and tips, "... first is to cleanse yourself and cleanse the room you will be doing the magic in. Cleanse the pony or item the magic will be done on. Candles can help focus the power of a spell, but specific candles focus specific energies, so choose wisely. At least three hours of meditation will help to clear the mind for the necessary memorization of the spell; three hours should similarly be devoted to the memorization. A crystal is the favored conductor for magical energies; if there are plans to transfer some, a crystal is cleansed by salt-bath for three days."

"Prepare the spellbook. Acquire and prepare all necessary ingredients. Make sure the time of day and location are correct for the spell you will be casting; any possible kickback from the spell should be noted and the spell performed in a safely-sized area. Make sure to inform a fellow wizard or magic-adept of the spell you will be using, when, and where you will be using it, so they will know what to do if anything should go wrong."

Kibeth could remember no more of the lesson. Her jaw snapped shut and she peered up at Esque, hoping he would accept the answer. He did not look impressed... but he did not look much of anything more than lost in thought. As he mulled it over for longer and longer, she became more and more nervous that she had said or done something wrong... until, finally, he spoke up.

"Well done. That seems to be the majority of the information. Have you truly read all of the book to this extent?"

Kibeth nodded solemnly.

"Normally I would allow you to skip reading the book, then, and allow you free time to your own devices...

"... but this is no normal class, and I happen to have an abundance of books available for your perusal. If you enjoyed that book, perhaps this one will be to your liking, as well."

Esque held up a hoof as to say 'wait here', and then swiftly moved to a corner of the small study-like room. A chest - likely one that had come in on the cart with him - had been unloaded there, and he opened it carefully, peering inside for only a moment before retrieving an unbelievably thick tome. The book was so wide, it was nearly a perfect cube. Kibeth gulped as Esque - with effort - managed to carry the book to the small table in the room and flip the apparently indestructible front cover and spine open to reveal the title page (for the book was surprisingly devoid of marking, being only red with silver accents).

"The history of the sleep spell," Kibeth read aloud.

"Wait, sleep spells? But... but this is going to be boring..!" she whined.

"Well, maybe yes, maybe no... you will simply have to find out, while your classmates rush to catch up to you."

"... I said, RUSH to catch UP to you," he repeated with emphasis as he glared at the flutterpony stallions, who had been watching Kibeth's new workload in slack-jawed wonder, both.

"Oh, y-yes, we'll need to.. to start reading," Ruvan nodded agreeably as he began to flip through pages in his book. He didn't envy Kibeth's workload, and didn't want to be stuck with anything like it as punishment for not reading quickly enough.

"Excellent," Esque grinned, "Perhaps we can be through chapter three by tonight!"


	29. Chapter 29 - Twilight Magic

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Twenty-Nine - Twilight Magic_

Kibeth returned home for dinner right as Alile had finished it. The fortuitous timing made them both equally happy and hungry. They shared dinner in silence, waiting until they were finished to start what would be the inevitable inquisition.

As Kibeth was washing the last plate of their spread, Alile huffed a bit and then directed his attention to her.

"So, um, how was the new teacher?"

"A little strict..." Kibeth's ears pinned back against her head.

"Oh, really? With the other students, you mean?"

"No... me. I told him I had read the book and he gave me another, huge book to read... and it wasn't even about my magic. It was about sleep spells." She grumpily scoured the remaining food-bits off her plate, gave it another rinse, dried it with a towel, and placed it carefully with the others.

"Sleep spells, huh? What was that book like..?"

"... like reading a book about the history of sleep spells," she muttered.

"Did he say why he was having you read it?"

Kibeth huffed as she took an exhausted seat at their dining table.

"Only at the end of the day. I spent all day reading it; he made me. I got pretty far in, but it was just talking about the first pony to use sleeping spells, how he came across them, the ponies that were influenced by him... I even had to look some of the words up in the dictionary. Every time I put the book down, he glared at me."

"Well, that doesn't seem quite right," Alile cocked his head, looking a little perturbed, but Kibeth held up a hoof.

"But at the end of class he told me... if I wanted to know what it was like to discover magic, and wanted to know what sort of magic was out there, I would have to read a lot of books, and if there was any way to get used to reading books, he said... it was to read a very large and boring one, first, so that every book afterward seems smaller and more interesting."

They sat in silence a moment, with Kibeth looking to see how Alile would respond. He seemed a bit perplexed for a moment... then he began to laugh.

"He has a good point, you know... the longest books were the hardest and they certainly make everything else look like light reading."

"I just wish... that we had gotten a chance to actually use magic."

Alile smiled patiently, and leaned across the table to nuzzle his foster-daughter with a familial warmth.

"Don't get too impatient. Learning the fundamentals before you get started is just as important as actually beginning. You'll get to the magic some day soon, I promise."

"In the meanwhile," he nudged her a bit, "maybe the extra reading will get you some better grades in your Common Speak courses."

He feigned sternness, and Kibeth smiled slyly at him.

"I will be better in my Common courses one day, Alile, you will see!"

"Now, where are the strawberries I know you brought with you?"

"Oh, Kibeth..." Alile jokingly sighed, rolling his eyes as he got up to retrieve the small container of strawberries he'd acquired... and the single F'hassberry.

"Ah! A F'hassberry!" Kibeth clapped her hooves together, "Are they in season, now?"

"A new batch is just starting to come around. Alile sent one here to the quarters..." Alile trailed off, seeming a little haunted by something. Kibeth didn't seem to notice, her eyes greedily focused on the larger fruit in the container Alile set on the table.

"I hardly remember what they taste like. We can have some now, right? Right? Right? Right?" She began to bounce a bit, in place.

"Y-yes, of course. I'll cut it." He retrieved the knife and sliced the fruit skillfully into six bite-sized pieces. Juice began to immediately soak out of the center and Kibeth leapt to retrieve her three pieces in quick succession. She slurped them up with a look of bliss and then sat back in her seat, satisfied. He had barely even seen it happen... it was so funny how quickly children let enjoyment slip by, he thought, as he licked the remainder of the juice from the first of his three pieces from his lips.

Kibeth left the table, and Alile continued to eat the F'hassberry in silence.

He thought back to his visit with Regulus. He remembered when they knew each other better, and when they made time for each other. He knew the duty of being one of the Seven was difficult, but he couldn't understand the other stallion's gruff and inconsiderate manner. He didn't seem at all apologetic, and what was more, he seemed under great duress. The more Alile considered the happenings, the more he was certain the quarantine the Tower had recently come under was for the good of all the ponies inside. _Something_ fishy was going on... and he had mixed feelings about being in any way invovled with it.

He savored the last bits of F'hassberry... they'd be the last he'd accept from Regulus. If he no longer had time for Alile, then Alile certainly didn't need to be giving others any impression that he might be receiving preferential treatment, as Regulus had implied. It was no matter... Alile had plenty of his own duties to attend to.

* * *

The next morning, Kibeth was up early again for her magic classes. She remembered much more of the route, this time, and was even early as she wasn't quite as nervous getting ready as she had been the night before. She tip-toed her way down staircase after staircase until she reached the floor above the one she was to got to class on... where she bumped into Snowflake.

Actually, it had looked like Snowflake was waiting for her. He was standing patiently in the nook of a landing, watching the ponies descending with expectant eyes. When she saw him, she stopped, and then backed up a step. She felt her heart quicken a bit and she swallowed a lump in her throat... that feeling of panic she got, when there was a chance she was about to have an important conversation. She was afraid of what Snowflake would have to say. Her mind raced, grasping for a floor plan, a layout to show her whether there was an emergency conversation escape to be had... but she absolutely had to get down the steps, to class.

Besides, she told herself... she had been hoping he would speak to her. Just now that he was standing there, staring sternly up at her, she felt vulnerable to an attack she'd never considered. She stepped carefully down the stairs, watching her tattooed hooves against the quartz-like surface of the hewn stone rather than meeting Snowflake's gaze.

"Myshna, Snowflake, I hope the morning greets you well," she offered, hopefully.

"M-m-myshna, Kibeth," Snowflake responded somewhat hollowly, "I... heard you were starting magic classes and w-w-wanted to w-wish you g-g-g-good luck."

"Oh, um..." she started, uncertainly.

"I d-don't want you to th-think I'm upset with you," Snowflake interrupted her, looking as sheepish as he could when you could barely see his eyes behind his thick mane and forelock.

"A... A-aren't you?" Kibeth asked, shyly, not able to keep her gaze from straying over her shoulder to her tattooed flank.

"I... was. But I realize th-this is important to you..." he trailed off.

"It is."

"I just... d-d-don't want to lose our friendship over a t-t-t-tattoo..." Snowflake's voice rose in volume a bit, and he took a breath before suddenly rushing forward to be near to her. He leaned in and brushed his neck lightly on hers before pulling back; the gesture to a close friend of a soft shoulder-bump, much like a hug. He blushed a bit as he stepped back from her, acknowledging his forwardness.

Kibeth blushed in return, suddenly feeling a rush of mixed emotion.

"W-w-we'll both be late for class if I don't g-g-get going," he suddenly said, gruffly, before giving her the soft neck-dip of a bow and then trotting up the stairs, past her, just as a couple of flutterponies started to come down the stairs past them.

Kibeth stood there a moment longer, watching after Snowflake had departed. He was so kind to have come by and wished her luck... and her spirits lifted a bit, to know that he wanted to make things up between them.

She remembered class, and began to saunter off in the direction of it. Her mind reeled a bit, giddily, thinking of when she might see Snowflake again so she could have a real discussion with him about her classes. She hoped it wouldn't distract her too much from her studies... Esque could easily tell when his students were distracted...

* * *

Esque ended up having nothing to say about Kibeth's distraction, if he noticed it at all. Kibeth sat down in her bean-bag chair expecting to begin reading as the class had done the day before, but today Esque was standing at the front of their tiny classroom with a gleam of something in his eye. Their books had been neatly shelved, and he had a blackboard pulled forward, with a few words written on it:

"TELEKINESIS

TELEPATHY

TELEPORTATION

MIND CONTROL

VISUAL MANIPULATION

DREAM MANIPULATION"

"These," Esque began, surprisingly loudly as if to startle them to attention, "are some of the better-known Twilight powers. Powers you may or may not have. Powers the entirety of Azuyan does not _want_ you to have. _Dangerous_ powers, that have gotten countless ponies into countless troubles... started wars... endangered the lives of every pony in this world, and destroyed or took the lives of thousands or millions of now-unheard voices.

"Twilight magic does very little good for this world... and ushers in quite a lot of evil."

"That is why it will be _your task_," he peered around to Kibeth, Ruvan, and Ulp in powerful, pointed succession, "to be ambassadors of the magic. Harm give to no pony; take no harm, yourself. Follow the paths of righteousness. Find your faith, and carve solid into your persona your morals. Do not let your vision be obstructed by the evils of overreaching desire, lust, or greed...

"Your magic is best used when it is used the least," he finished, slamming a hoof into the ground and sending a forceful ringing through the room that startled all three students straight up in their seats.

Silence enveloped the room, and in the intense stillness, Kibeth fidgeted, then slowly raised a hoof.

"Do we... know what powers we each have?" She asked. It seemed like a rhetorical question, at least in regards to the teacher's answer, as Kibeth looked around to her fellow students expectantly.

"That is, technically, slightly classified information," Esque's eyelids fell heavily, giving him a look of irritation.

"Well, but, what about when we practice magic in front of each other?"

"You won't be; I've been explicitly told to NOT have you practice magic in front of one another. You'll be practicing in private sessions with me on certain, opposing days."

Kibeth looked at her classmates uncertainly; they looked uncertainly back at her. Ruvan, especially, seemed hesitant to accept Esque's authority or instruction, but he was silent.

"Will we get to know _your_ power?" Ulp suddenly spoke up, a timid look in his eye.

"Some day, perhaps, if you are lucky," Esque snorted, as he returned to his podium to address the topics on the board again.

"Can anyone tell me of an instance of dream manipulation and the destruction it wrought?"

The pupils looked among each other but didn't seem to come up with anything under Esque's critical eye. He flipped his pink mane in dissatisfaction, and huffed.

"Eighty years ago, in a small coastal town named Venhaydan on a desert isle not too far from ours, there was a Prince who grew into twilight powers in secret. Prince Manian's power did not manifest until he was reaching adulthood... and it took quite a while for his power to become known to him. He one day overheard his mother talking about a strange dream in which she'd offered the Prince the largest room in the palace, just as he'd been asking her for several years, and in her dream everything went splendidly... and so, she considered it. The Prince knew this was the result of his manipulation, and he soon got to work.

"The Prince had never liked his father, though the father was all to happy to have a son in line for succession. One evening, the Prince snuck into the lower, more sordid district of Venhaydan and found himself a peasant... coinless, homeless, begging for food, and with more than a bit of a touch from the Gods. The Prince gave the pony a large, juicy carrot from the palace's stocks - a carrot laced with a sleeping spell, mind you," and Esque glanced pointedly at Kibeth, "- and left the degenerate to sleep soundly. In his sleep, the poor fool glimpsed himself sneaking into the palace through a lesser-known entrance and murdering the King as he slept in his chambers. In his dream, the homeless pony was celebrated for freeing the kingdom from the King's reign. He was given the palace to live in and feast upon feast were held in his honor, though they did little to drain the handsome reward vaults he'd been given. In his dream, the Gods came down from the Heavens themselves... Am'hatai, he claimed, spoke to him, and said the dream was a vision of all he could have, the moment he awoke and did as they'd suggested..."

"And so, the pony did. And as the Prince lay in his room that night, his eyes lightly closed but ears perked and listening, he heard the dying scream from his father's bedchambers down the hall and grinned to himself."

"His mother was grief-stricken and wept for a week. She was exhausted by the time the funeral came to happen, and in her fitful sleep she was visited by her dead husband, who told her to give the palace, the guard, the entire kingdom to the Prince immediately. The Prince's mother wept another week, for she had felt some uncertain feeling that her son had been planning things, that the King's death was not an accident... but she could not deny the King's presence in her dream, nor reject his request. After wrestling with her demons, she ordered the palace magistrate to create the documents necessary to transfer ownership of the kingdom to the Prince.

"The day it was announced the Kingdom would be transferred over, the townsponies had mixed feelings. The grumblings and rumors from the street were such in volume that even the Prince could hear them from the open window of the tailor's loft, as he was being fitted for his new cape and royal dress. He betrayed no emotion; said he to the tailor, he had only the best intentions for the town and he hoped the townsponies would soon see things his way.

"The night before the inauguration, the townsponies slept, and a vast number of them - hundreds, perhaps a quarter of the town's population - dreamt, and remembered those dreams. They were dreams of a Venhaydan wrought in glimmering, sun-drenched gold, with inhabitants enjoying lives of luxury and peace, and prosperity as they had never seen in anything but dreams. Banners proclaiming the tenth year of the Prince's rule hung at every street intersection, and ponies joyfully bowed to effigies of the Prince carved into the very walls of the city and walls of the houses therein.

"The ponies dreamt that relations with all other cities were smoothed and that the Prince took a Queen with the greatest wisdom and beauty. They dreamt that their families were well-looked-after, that their enemies were turned away by the righteous shine of their magnificent city-state, and that the Gods and Am'hatai herself blessed the land Venhaydan was built upon, giving its ponies the longest and richest of lives.

"Even if these ponies had no personal stock in the rulers of their Kingdom, when they awoke from their dreams, they all somehow felt much more interested in the Prince's reign. The inauguration went by without a hitch, and to great fanfare from the jubilant town proper. Feasts and merriment lasted two weeks... and did not stop for long, as the Prince soon after took a wife - a mare he had just met some nights before but who felt compelled to be with him, assured that the rest of her life would be in the lap of luxury - and the celebrations began anew.

"It was only when ponies began to be conscripted for duty with the city's army that rumors began to race around town, again... rumors of the Prince's ill intentions, and of his impending attack on the nearby city of Muldone. In fact, some word was sent ahead to the town by some of their spies that the Prince's army was doubling... quadrupling, and beginning major training, and the King of Muldone soon sent a well-armored messenger to Prince Manian to order him to stand down.

"The Prince simply chuckled when he read the letter, and returned one with the other King's messenger stating that he would be dropping by for a personal visit. And Prince Manian's visit with the King of Muldone went well, as the two calmly discussed Prince Manian's intentions to send troops to help the bay-city of Kolustin, far south, which had recently been occupied by pirates. Though he had been apprehensive about the visit, the King of Muldone's fears were allayed by the Prince's visit, and even moreso by the dreams he shared with his wife that night of a prosperous tie to the Venhaydan city-state. He dreamed of rich trading ties, generous land proposals, and Prince Manian submitting to his every demand.

"His townspeople - mostly, the soldiers - meanwhile dreamt of a similar peaceable agreement between the lands, with the two armies riding out to meet one another with peace lilies extended in overladen baskets between them. The soldiers dreamt of laying down their halberds, their pikes, their swords and canons, and returning home to their mates and children... to calm days of regular, hard labor, to evenings of picnics and watching their children grow, and to nights of intimacy they rarely had time for in the current era of distrust between the cities."

"It started as a welcome surprise, then, when the entire vast army of Venhaydan arrived on the hillside outside Muldone with banners and baskets of lilies. A lily-laden patrol of the Muldonian army came to meet them, but only shortly... the riders and militia fell into pools of their own blood as the swords and spears drove into them and the arrows rained down on their heads.

"The city of Muldone was quickly overtaken, and the King slain, his head placed on a pike personally by Prince Manian, who brought it into his royal court at the Muldonian castle that evening, to act as entertainment.

"Unfortunately, it was many years after all of this took place that _King _Manian was finally deposed. He refrained from using his magic for a long time after that, and while many of the Muldonian city would long question that dream they all shared, those of Venhaydan saw much of the prosperity they had (assumedly) prophetically dreamed of and thought only of their good fortune and how they had been blessed by the Gods.

"Only after some time did King Manian become rusty in his use of his magic and too dull from a devotion to the courtly needs to continue to use his powers to his advantage. A powerful dragon wizard came to his town, and the King decided to attempt to gain the wizard's trust... but the wizard knew far too much about Twilight magic to be tricked, and he knew from whence the dreams he had came... because he rarely, if ever, dreamed anything. The wizard confronted Prince Manian, who angrily denied the accusation and ordered the wizard killed. A gruesome battle broke out, but in the end, the wizard's powers were great and King Manian's bodyguards ineffective; the King was finally slain, and the townspeople informed of his trickery.

"When the lands were redistributed and returned to their rightful townsponies, Venhaydan and Muldone agreed to never again fight... but for the good of their peoples, and not at the behest of a King. Those towns no longer have kings... they work by rule of committee."

Esque quieted and his gaze dropped to the book on his podium, as if the children sat before him had simply walked in and interrupted his reading, rather than being his students. They sat in silence for several moments until Ulp raised a shaking, nervous hoof.

"Would our parents approve of you teaching us this story?" He seemed a little shaken, as if some of the story or its imagery had left a haunting impression on him. Esque tapped a hoof on his podium for a moment, as in thought.

"They'll approve of anything I tell them to approve of. Your parents are so frightened of Twilight magic, they'll do anything to keep you on the right path and make sure you learn to control it or hide it altogether," the elder unicorn sneered.

A small, drumming noise started up behind the teacher's response as a magical alarm went off, informing them the class was ready for a short break. Esque's eyes turned weary and he blew a tuft of pinkish mane out of his eyes before waving a hoof in dismissal.

"Shoo, be gone. Be back in twenty minutes." His eyes dropped to his book; he didn't bother watching them leave.

Ruvan was the first to get to his hooves and dart out he classroom door, and Ulp wasn't far behind him. Kibeth heard them scuffling in the hallway, like typical colts; one told the other to back off, and the muffled swishes and thuds of some shoving ensued, and then galloping as the triumphant scared off the weaker. Kibeth shook her head in exasperation as she gathered her satchel, making sure everything was inside, including the barter coins she had to purchase herself a midday snack from the cafeteria.

Kibeth waved a hoof to Esque as she got ready to leave, and the unicorn stallion looked up over the rim of his book to give her a quick nod.

As she slid out the door's smallish opening, Kibeth nearly ran into her classmate, Ruvan. His emerald green eyes peered out from behind his shockingly snow-white mop of unkept mane, the verdant kelly nearly lost behind a blinding glimmer of mischief. He bucked and reared a bit, suggesting with a wave of his white tail that Kibeth follow him, before leaping away down the hall. He twisted down a hallway and was gone, as Kibeth considered. She had hoped to sneak off to the cafeteria but the twenty minutes allotted wasn't quite enough to make it back in time... she might just have to wait until their break after lunch. What was the harm in following Ruvan? She was curious. Her hoofsteps followed down the hallway and twisted around the same corner.

She was met with an uninteresting hallway, again, with a kink and two more hallways intersecting it. A white tuft of tail disappeared down the one before her, rather than the left, so she continued forward. Ruvan led her in this way down two more hallways before stopping in front of a stout door, which opened to reveal a short supply closet... not big enough for an adult flutterpony to step into without crouching but the perfect, cozy size for one or two young flutter foals.

Ruvan clambered inside and made beckoning eyes out to Kibeth before letting the small door close on its own. Kibeth looked around and made sure no other pony was there to see them, then trotted over and struggled into the small space with him. It was lit with a dull light; she could make out the features of his face and the color of his eyes, but not much beyond that was lit. There was less than a foot of space between them and Kibeth held her breath as Ruvan started to whisper.

"You already know what your power is, don't you," he grinned, a quirky sideways thing, challenging any comers.

"I-I... maybe. We're not supposed to discuss it..." Kibeth's eyes flicked to the light filtering in from the opening around the door they'd squeezed through.

"I can tell you what mine is," he chuckled, leaning closer to her.

"O-oh, y-you... you shouldn't..." she blushed, turning her head away, but looking up at him with a slight hint of curiosity.

He leaned in closer and brought a hoof forward to touch one of hers.

"You're... feeling a little dizzy, aren't you?"

The moment Ruvan's hoof touched her own and he whispered, she could feel her head reeling. She saw his face, then two of it, then four... her hooves spread beneath her in an attempt to steady herself. All of a sudden it felt like the entire tower was about to fall out of the sky. No floor seemed safely flat... she felt herself starting to tip and leaned into Ruvan's shoulder.

"Y-yes, I f-feel ill... what is-..."

"You're fine. You're better than fine; you're quite happy."

The sick feeling went away as the world straightened out. Everything was solid, nothing was moving, thank Am'hatai! She felt even more happy about this change than she could've expected to. Her thoughts began to race, and she considered that their time was nearly up and they would be returning to class, soon... that sounded like fun. A feeling of warmth filled her at the thought of going to class and she smiled to herself. Ruvan saw this and chuckled. And then it dawned on her.

"Your power is... feelings? You can make me feel things..?"

Ruvan was silent a moment before slowly nodding. His eyes twitched, desperately searching hers for some sign of her true response to the revelation as he slid his hoof away from hers again.

A mixture of fear and curiosity glimmered there... but it was clear the fear was an afterthought, lost under the avalanche of questions she probably had for him. The two were silent together in the tiny supply closet for several moments before Kibeth inched her hoof closer to his.

"What about... um... alert. Can you make me feel alert?"

Ruvan pursed his lips a bit, seeming uncertain about how to approach that specific feeling. He became lost in thought for a few moments before tentatively pressing his hoof next to hers again.

Kibeth suddenly stood rigid. Her eyes widened and focused on the flutter stallion before her, and she peered at him as though she were analyzing every single particle he was made up of. She certainly looked more alert, and inside her head, her mind was racing ahead of her. She was trying to answer questions that hadn't been asked, and looking for the consequences of actions she hadn't even taken yet. She seemed more than alert... almost manic, as her eyes began to twitch from the flood of information that her mind was suddenly deciding to try to process.

"We have homework tonight. I have lots of homework tonight. Homework. It has to get done. But there are classes. I have to do classes. Classes and homework. Maybe I can do homework while I'm doing the classes. Maybe I can finish homework before I even go home. Maybe I can finish homework and turn it in right in class, right in class," Kibeth suddenly started muttering. She hadn't blinked since they'd touched hooves, and Ruvan started to look a little worried. He moved his hoof away from hers... but her eyes remained widened, staring beyond him as her mind carefully worked through some of the tiniest, most intricate matters of her life and future.

Ruvan looked at his hoof, suddenly a bit frightened, and he touched Kibeth with some force, "... you feel dizzy!"

Kibeth remained wide-eyed and stiff, her lips now moving as she mouthed her brain-process-ramblings silently to herself.

"You feel happy!" He said, a bit more loudly, now shoving her with both of his forehooves. Her body gave to his shove, falling back, but she seemed content with it, her eyes still focused on the immaterial nothingness beyond him, beyond them, beyond the tower, her lips a blur as she mouthed words he couldn't begin to understand.

"Kibeth! Come on, Kibeth, we have to get back to class! Kibeth! KIBETH! YOU FEEL ALL RIGHT NOW," Ruvan suddenly cried out, his fear getting the better of him. He hovered over her and planted his hooves firmly on her chest, pressing down on her with enough force to knock the air out of her. "YOU FEEL ALL RIGHT NOW," he repeated, practically bouncing on her as she again emitted a 'whoosh' of lost breath, and this time she finally gasped, strangled, and began to cough. She sat up and peered at Ruvan, eyes wide but finally recognizing him before her.

She shook her head several times before saying, "... I have a really bad headache."

"I'm sorry, Kibeth... this is why I'm taking classes with Esque. I can't fully control it, yet. Thankfully there's not usually any lasting results... does your head still hurt?"

Kibeth took a few deep breaths and peered up at Ruvan in the scant light they had. She blinked a couple of times; the headache dissipated. Even a bit of her memory of the events faded. She remembered feeling very awake and very alert, just as she had asked, and then blackness until she'd seen Ruvan again. She had been a little frightened - she could feel her heart still trying to slow from its earlier exertion - but with his handsome, worry-filled, grassy eyes gazing questioningly at her, she felt... fine, she supposed. She shook her head.

"No, it's fine... I'm okay. I'm sorry I worried you. I..."

"We should get back to class," he ushered her toward the crack of light at the edge of the storage space's doorway.

Kibeth clambered to her feet, dusted herself off, made sure she had her satchel, and reached for the entrance. She looked back over her shoulder to Ruvan, who huddled just behind her. He looked at her encouragingly, then leaned nearer and whispered in her ear.

"Maybe next break you can show me your magic..?"

Kibeth froze for a moment, then stiffly pushed her way out into the hallway. She trotted ahead of Ruvan on the way back to their classroom, where she sat rigidly in a corner and braced the 'History of Sleep Spells' against a stool so she could read it properly.


	30. Chapter 30 - The Date

**Author's Note: Being that this story is about Kibeth, this is one of many chapters I've considered removing. I think building relationships between some of the "ancillary" characters has some importance to the later part(s) of the book, but where it is right now, I suppose it may simply be distracting from the pony this book is actually supposed to be about..? In any case, feedback is always welcome. Thank you.**

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter 30 - The Date_

"I can tell Kibeth is already doing better with her magic courses," Alile seemed to puff up with pride as he trotted alongside Dream Keeper, who he had spotted across the crowded cafeteria and approached. He knew the Council member was more than a little busy; along with his friend Regulus and the other Seven, as well as other Council members, she had to attend to the tower's quarantine, as well as help try to dig up and piece together the few and confusing clues about the two homicides. All of the wear of the work was easily visible in the creases beneath Dream Keeper's eyes. Alile suddenly realized it may have been a while since he'd seen her, but it had been much longer since he'd seen a smile from her that wasn't weary.

"Oh, is that so? That is quite good. I have heard our teacher Esque is doing quite a bit to help his students. They still have a long way to go - it has only been two seasons - but I have heard of small improvements, especially in the department of control."

"How is she doing in her other classes? She is not overworking herself..?"

"Sometimes I wonder," Alile sighed, thinking back to the times he'd seen her hunched over books, "It's hard to tell whether she's torturing herself or enjoying herself. She complains about the homework, but... she keeps doing it."

"Soon she shall be into classes with little homework. Soon she shall be choosing a virtue and pledging. Why, soon, she shall..."

"... be a young mare. Oh, I know," Alile nodded sagely, "I can see the adult in her, just waiting to break out, sometimes. But then she complains about the greens at dinner and it's like I'm feeding a baby all over again, haha..."

Dream Keeper could hear the crack in his voice, but she did not acknowledge it. "Well, in any case... she can always come to me if she has any issues with her coursework. I am sure you know that."

"Yes, of course, Dream," Alile nodded, his eyes ahead of where they strolled. They had left the cafeteria long ago and strolled down to a hallway lined with doors... classrooms. The hallway was still, and mostly quiet, as the students were busy eating. They walked down the hallway a few paces, before Alile increased his pace and turned in front of the beeline Dream seemed to be making.

"I'm sure you're headed somewhere-"

"A meeting room at the end of this hallway. I would like to be early for this meeting."

"... yes. And I don't mean to get in your way, but I've been meaning to ask if... if you would like to have a late broth with me. I-I know you have a busy schedule, but it can be any night. I've earned plenty of time off, I can take whatever time you need..."

Dream Keeper studied Alile's face. She had never been asked to a late broth - being not much of a broth drinker nor much of one to stay up late into the evenings, she had done little to rectify it - but the longer she looked into his hopeful eyes, the more her schedule had to fight its way into her view.

They stood for a long while, and Alile admired her in that moment. She had the most soulful, glimmering eyes, framed by the lovely, slightly-plump face... a slightly-curly forelock hung down above an eye. Her pale gray hide - near-white inside, it could blaze to life in the moonlight - was exotically striped. He had never seen stripes quite like hers. Nor the legs with the grace and curve, the entire curve, right up into her toned back. He smelled the perfume of her self; no scent she put on, but the smell of paperwork and quill, of flights of stairs, of closed meetings... and a distant visit to the garden. His nostrils flared a bit, to take her in, the scent paling in comparison to the sight. He was glad he had built up the nerve to ask her...

"I do... not see how I can say 'no'. Would we be able to... three nights from now?" She mentally checked her schedule.

"Y-yes, of course, naturally, anything you would like. I'll see you then!" He turned to high-step away, tail swishing happily... then turned back to her again.

"And good luck with your meeting, of course," he grinned, bearing a dashing and nearly shining smile, before again turning tail and trotting back off to the cafeteria.

* * *

The time flew like a hungry dragon, swooping past in what seemed like mere seconds... already, three days passed, and it was night again. But then the time dragged. Alile had been impatient for the meeting ever since lunch had come around, that day, and knowing he would have to devote some time to guard duty felt like torture. As he stood on one of the tower's many lofty open balconies, peering down at the expansive sands that glittered in the moonlight as he propped his head between the crenellated parapets, he couldn't help but beg for the time to pass... though he knew every moment he begged would practically split into two, lengthier moments. He'd been watching the moon climb into the sky all evening, ever since the Duskbell had rung, and he didn't feel any closer to the end of his shift. He heaved a sigh.

"Slacking on the job, I see," a familiar voice called to him from the entrance to the balcony, some feet away. Alile hadn't heard the hoofsteps approaching at all, and leapt several feet in the air, nearly tumbling over the parapets. He turned frantically to glance at who had been watching him... it was Regulus.

Alile hadn't spoken with Regulus since their encounter in the green house. Kibeth had asked where "Uncle Reggie" was a couple of times, but Alile had had no answer for her... he had holed himself up in his quarters or traveled upward to the chambers of the Seven. Now that he was the Head of Justice, he had almost no time at all to visit the ponies on the lower levels of the tower. The cooks were even instructed to send meals by tower courier to the Seven, who had their own meal request paper slips they could send down to the kitchen any time they became hungry. For all Alile could have known, Regulus might have been dead...

... he shook the thought out while rearranging his mane and then trotted over to greet his friend.

"It's been some time, Regulus," Alile approached him with head cocked, "To what do I owe the honor..?"

"A favor. I need a favor from you."

Regulus' voice was gruff, almost dry-sounding. His eyes focused on Alile as the stallion approached, and hardened... Alile felt a shiver run down his spine. Something inside him protested, but he swallowed it and responded.

"Anything for you, dear friend... what is it you need?"

Regulus seemed to consider for a moment, then. He shifted his weight on his hooves and turned his head, letting his unkempt, shocking green locks fall down around his shoulders. Alile noticed he had stopped wearing the cape he had used to wear, instead opting for a set of black robes, robes similar to those the Council tended to wear, especially in the cooler winter months. He was still admiring the robes when Regulus finally spoke up.

"I need you to acquire these roots from the garden, for me. I have been far too busy during the day to travel down to the garden and Mistblossom is not nearly as generous with couriers as she is with ponies she knows. I've been having difficulty sleeping... he says... the Wizard says it should hopefully help."

"Oh, are you still having trouble?" Alile responded, suddenly concerned; he recalled Regulus' problems with sleeping many seasons ago and had hoped the worst was behind the stallion... but the quarantine and research into the deaths had affected Dream Keeper quite heavily, so it was no surprise Regulus was suffering under the same load.

Regulus produced a short list from a pouch around his neck and passed it to Alile, who promptly stuck the list into a small slot in his horseshoe... the place he always put notes he didn't want to forget, since he tended to feel them under his hooves with each step.

"Are you going to look at it..? There are some difficult ingredients on there..."

"Oh, no," Alile shook his head, "I have no idea what I'm doing when it comes to plants. I think it would go a lot better if I just ask Mistblossom to grab them for me..."

"I need you to do this yourself. Mistblossom... some of these plants are rather rare, and I can't hope that Mistblossom will simply let me use some of them."

"Why wouldn't she? She knows you... I'm sure it will be fine..."

Regulus looked doubtful, his face falling, practically wizening before Alile's eyes.

"Look, you haven't seen her for about as long as you haven't seen me, and I'm still happy to help..." Alile came nearer the other stallion and nudged at Regulus' shoulder with his own. Regulus started backward, away from the touch, and snorted.

"Fine. If what you say is true, then... you can ask for her help. But... I desperately need these plants, Alile. I don't know if you understand..."

"I do, I do," he nodded solemnly, after another glance at his friend's prematurely-aged face, "I know you need them. I'm worried about you, Reggie. I'll be happy to get these for you."

Regulus' face screwed up... it looked like a mixture of anger and sadness suddenly clashing amidst his features, wrinkling his snout, baring his teeth, slitting his watering eyes.

"Don't call me Reggie," the stallion muttered, darkly, deeply, before turning tail and trotting away.

Alile watched him go with perplexity clearly visible on his long face. He had expected Regulus to stick around for at least a little longer, after the Head had taken the time to come visit... he hadn't even asked how Kibeth was, though the filly would be intensely eager to find out news about her "uncle". Regulus just seemed completely drained, and Alile knew it wasn't his fault... he never would have known how difficult the job of being one of the Seven was, until he had seen Regulus' weary eyes regarding him from the opening onto the balcony. Alile eyed the empty spot where his friend had once stood and lamented the dulling of their uneasy-at-times friendship. Surely it was just due to Regulus' lack of sleep... surely the stallion would perk up, if Alile could acquire these plants for him. His mind wandered to the note in his horseshoe at the same time his eyes leapt to the sky.

The moon, near-full and a blinding, pure, driven-snow white, looked down upon him softly from its perch far into the dark-as-bruises night sky. Something about the moon's gaze felt cold, and he shivered. Then he realized... the position of the moon meant...

The soft but rapidly-loudening sound of hoofsteps approaching made Alile's heart leap into a gallop. His hooves were suddenly jittery beneath him, itching to start the race down the flights. All he needed to do was greet his replacement and pass on his post to the other. The hooves became louder and louder, and the fresh-faced smile of a new guard greeted him from around the opening to the balcony.

"Thynroy, reporting for duty, Alile, sir," the smaller, younger flutterpony stallion stood stock-straight and saluted him with a hoof crossed over his chest. Alile nodded and gave a brisk and shallow bow - possibly the quickest he'd ever dealt with the formality - before brushing past the new guard and leaping halfway down the first flight of stairs. He was many floors above the cafeteria, but the time traveling down there couldn't possibly last as long as the time he'd waited for this night; waited for Dream Keeper to have a chance to say 'yes' and to meet her in the cafeteria when it wasn't crowded and noisy, when the two of them could sit together and sip the warm herbal soup and discuss themselves. He tried to keep himself from drifting too far off into fantasy... he didn't want to end up careening down a staircase and breaking his neck! He tried to slow his frenzied pace a bit as he clambered down, down, down the floors to the waiting cafeteria.

* * *

Either he had been late leaving his post or - more likely - Dream Keeper was not one to be late and instead was early to just about everything. She had a very strict schedule and he shouldn't have been surprised that she had made sure to budget time for their meeting. He had just hoped to beat her to the cafeteria so she wouldn't find herself paying, or waiting.

Broth was not a customary meal and the kitchen served it only to ponies who could pay with barter chips. The barter chips were a form of currency, but a pony only received them for doing duties beyond their normal ones, and a pony could only receive so many a week... and in that sense, they were more precious than money, and ponies tended to keep them near and dear. The barter chips Alile had rationed for their broth night, for instance, had come as payment for several hours' worth of extra guard duty. Another guard had had family matters to attend to, and the Captain offered Alile four barter chips to stay the night... he had hid them away in his personals box where Kibeth wouldn't go looking for them, and now he heard them chattering away as they clinked against one another in the pouch he'd tossed around his neck before heading out to guard duty that night.

Luckily for Alile, Dream Keeper had been waiting... but she had not paid. He saw her sitting at a table to the side of the cafeteria's entrance, her gaze angled downward at a book resting on the table before her. He didn't want to startle her, so he came up alongside the table with somewhat loud hooffalls; he noticed her ear twitch back, swiveling to catch the sound of his hooves, before she glanced up from her page to see Alile.

She smiled wearily, and Alile felt a mix of happiness and sympathy.

"I'll get the broth, you just wait here. Is there a flavor you'd like?"

"Hm... do they have carrots and celery?"

Alile pondered for a moment. He didn't think he had seen celery broth before. He rolled his shoulders in a shrug.

"We'll find out. I'll be right back."

Dream Keeper watched his haunches as he left, their muscular flex leading him away from her and toward the serving line, where the few ponies willing to work evenings in the cafeteria waited for any ponies ordering. She paused to watch him a moment more as he spoke with the nearest kitchen-worker in tones she was too far away to hear. Finally, she dropped her gaze back down to her book.

Dream Keeper tended to scan books rather than read them. From an early age, she had decided books were something to glean information from, rather than something to be read for fun... and so she had worked to become very good at pulling out important snippets of information from books' passages without actually taking the time to fully read them. She skimmed several pages in this fashion before Alile - surprisingly quickly - returned with their broth.

"They had some carrot and celery!" he exclaimed after setting the lunch tray down on their shared table. In fact, he had had to ask the serving pony if they could please go to the back and chop up some celery - which they had only grudgingly done after he had offered them each a barter chip - and place it in the soup just for Dream. He had had to wait a moment while they portioned some out and cooked it separately to let the celery exude a little flavor... but he had noticed Dream's eyes closely scanning her book and figured she wouldn't mind the wait. Now, he sat down with her, with his own bowl of broccoli-flavored broth, and peered across the table to her.

They sat in silence for several moments, while her eyes darted between Alile and the broth he had brought. Alile's gaze was just on her; he seemed content to simply sit and stare at her, rather than eating anything. Finally, she closed her book and set it off to the side, then pulled the bowl of gently-warmed broth closer to herself and sniffed it. It smelled faintly like carrots and celery, but mostly like the mineral-filled water they dredged up from the wells around the tower. She lapped up a bit of it and found it mostly tasteless... not terrible, but certainly nothing to get excited about.

Taking a cue from her, Alile pulled his own bowl close and lapped up some of the broccoli broth. He had taken a chance on the broccoli - he usually just got plain carrot - and found himself extremely disappointed. The broccoli left the broth with a bitter taste, something his grandmother might have liked - Am'hatai preserve her soul - but not something particularly enjoyable to him. Still, he had made the effort to invite Dream here and she was very patiently lapping up her broth in small amounts... he decided to follow her example and lap up the broccoli. He drank it fast, hoping to only suffer under the bitter taste at the end.

What Dream Keeper saw was a stallion with his nose practically snorkeling in his bowl, his eyes fixated on her. He had spent some barter chips for the broth and she would not leave it to cool... but she had a hard time drinking more than a few sips at a time. How he had managed to finish his so quickly was a mystery, but he was done, and he watched her with a patient, bemused gaze.

"So, hm... do you usually come to the cafeteria so late in the evenings?" Dream asked politely, taking the moment of his response to her to lap up a bit more of the broth.

"Oh, no, not usually. I've made dinner for Kibeth a few times, but I usually get the ingredients 'round lunch time, or just before the dinner rush. If I'm not on guard duty, I'm usually asleep by now... but... I'm usually on guard duty, haha," he chuckled, and rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. Guard duty was his job, after all.

"What about you?"

"Not at all; I am very much a pony who awakens with the sun. In most cases. I have missed the Dawnbell several times due to late nights studying... but that was mostly in my youth. It is behind me now..."

"Could have fooled me," Alile responded, quite earnestly.

The compliment was lost on Dream Keeper; her eyelashes fluttered as she examined her broth in the resulting silence.

"You're of the tower, right? Were your parents of the tower?" Alile's warm voice crept up after he'd finished his broth.

"Oh, yes, we have been here generations; since the beginning, basically..." Dream nodded, eying the remnants of her own broth with a skeptical eye as they slowly turned cold.

"My grandfather was from outside the tower. His friend wrote to him about the tower when they were both young, and he came here with a mare. That was back when there were no applications, though, just the interview."

"Ah, yes. Those were simpler times for the tower..." Dream lamented.

"He used to say that, too," Alile chuckled, and Dream flushed red, her brow furrowing a bit.

"Would you like to take a walk?" He suddenly perked up.

Dream Keeper's eyes widened in surprise. She turned to look out the nearest window into the inky blackness of night.

"Right now?"

"Oh, not outside," Alile watched her gaze and smiled, "I know of a guard rotation that happens to be quite scenic..."

"A... guard rotation?"

"Do you have the time for it?"

She had cleared plenty of time in her schedule... she looked at the bowl of empty broth, at the cafeteria... at Alile's handsomely-curved face, hopeful as he helpfully reached out to help clear the table.

"Yes... I do. Most certainly," she nodded, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"Great! Great," he repeated himself, after dumping their bowls off at the cleaning station for the night dish washers, "it's not far from here, actually."

"Excellent," Dream gathered her things and stood. Almost immediately he moved to be near her, and she felt the warmth of his larger, deep gray body keenly on her own coat.

"This way, then," he offered to lead, keeping only a step or two ahead of her.

* * *

The route led them up three flights of stairs. There were a few classroom hallways, here, and on the other side of the expansive level, several storage areas and a landing balcony. The storage areas were often left unguarded, since not many marauders made their way into the towers' defenses, and they had no idea where to look for the storage in the massive complex if they did. It had a complex series of coded doors to keep inhabitants of the tower out when they were supposed to be out, and that was generally all it needed... except when caravans came to visit, which they occasionally did. The small guards' walkway was made mostly for that purpose, and he explained all of this to her as he led the way down the series of ramps and in through the magically-coded door to the secluded guard walkway.

It was a newer addition to the tower, so it was still freshly-hewn stone and bright, rich colors. It was covered, and led around the outer wall of the storage rooms, wide enough for two ponies to walk side-by-side just as they did as he led her onto the path. The walkway was many stories up, but they had no need to fear; their nervous wings twitched as they exchanged pleasant small talk, strolling down the walkway and around a corner of the tower's wall.

The walkway, as it turned out, overlooked Mistblossom's garden. The full extent of it could be seen - though it shimmered and rippled like a mirage; some sort of magic shield had clearly been erected around it - and everywhere one looked in the distance there was desert, but here there were verdant greens, rich browns, ruby reds, sunny yellows, reflected-sky blues. It was as though a giant had dropped its bouquet in a wasteland, but it was beautiful... especially lit by the brilliant moon.

And just as he had remembered, her usually-grayish hide shone white in the moon's light, and he commented on how it took his breath away despite the hypocrisy. He felt foolish continuing to bare himself to her, because she seemed so uncomfortable with it all... but as he looked at her and she noticed, and she blushed at his compliment, she had a feeling creeping over her. She felt awkward in his shadow of assertiveness, always answering his questions and never asking, always following and never leading, and she felt afraid of what he would think of her.

So they continued down the walkway in silence, then, both of their eyes on the succulent garden below as he continued to lead her toward another door hewn in the castle's wall. It brought them inside again, to a secluded part of the storage rooms. The path led through a room filled with boxes of supplies; something very dull and uninteresting, but he told her to wait. They waited a moment, and he told her to take a deep breath. She inhaled and smelled it, then: a deliciously sweet smell, something wafting up through the floorboards. He explained that the kitchen was below them and they were beginning to bake the bread for the next morning's fast-breaking.

They stood in the moonlit, empty guardwalk and smelled the baking bread for several moments, each relating stories of fresh bread with their friends and family for a short while before he ushered her forward again. He said there was one more stop, as the guards' walk began to seemingly zig-zag. In fact, it took a methodical path through many of the main storerooms and vaults, passing by a brief opening in each so the presumed guards could check inside for anything suspect. He led her past so many storage rooms she began to lose count. She had no idea the tower had quite so much stock, but it was a comforting feeling as they passed more and more storerooms of food and necessities. Still, he didn't stop, his eyes scanning the doorways until, finally, his hooffalls came to a halt at one room.

He stepped inside and was lost to her vision a moment. Startled, she stepped forward and peered into the room after him... but it was dark, she could only hear quiet shuffling. She called for him and he shushed her, a sound of merriment ringing in the gesture. The sound of more shuffling greeted her ears for several moments before, finally, an orb lit up in the center of the room. It lit up at his hooves... a pale, amber yellow, brightly lighting his feet but only dimly his face. It was a magic orb, one of the glass variety that were often used to float in the water during water ceremonies.

She was about to ask why he had come all the way to do this, when another orb lit up just to the left of him. He lifted a back hoof and touched another, nearby orb and it, too, lit up... and the one next to it. Some next to those lit, and brilliant illumination grew into ones nearby those... a cascade of amber light suddenly poured through the room as though the Gods themselves had melted a rich miser's worth of gold into a swirl of light and let it drip into their tower. Suddenly the room was as bright as an amber-colored day, with a pathway leading down the center of the preciously fragile orbs to him. She carefully stepped down amongst the orbs and followed the path to stand near his warmth again.

This silence didn't feel like previous silences, though; it felt full, and right, and ready. He looked to her and she looked to him and they came closer to one another, feeling each others' eyes on them and hearing each others' breaths come more quickly. As she gazed up at him, he gave her no chance to think; he leaned in, and he kissed her, and it felt right, even as the amber lights started to dim around them, their temporary motion-sensitive energy spent. The amber winked out around them like stars submitting to the black hole of the room at nighttime. Then they were in darkness.


	31. Chapter 31 - Ruvan

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Thirty-One - Ruvan_

"Good morning, Kibeth," Esque greeted his pupil by lowering the book he'd been reading away from his gaze and peering over his thick-rimmed reading glasses to observe her entrance. It was the first of their sessions alone together, and she looked nervous and hesitant, even though they would be meeting in the same room as they always did, and he hadn't exactly sprouted eight legs or a hundred eyes. As she walked in, she peered around the room as if viewing it with new eyes, and then carefully took a seat on a bean-filled chair near to his desk. He watched as she did all of this, and her eyes finally connected with his gaze again, after going once around the room.

"Please do not sit there," he said, gruffly, before pointing to a wooden chair that had been pushed up against the wall on the other side of the room.

"Oh, u-uh, sorry," she stuttered a bit and tripped over her hooves as she scrambled to take a seat in the proffered, but uncomfortable, chair. She sat up straight and tried to give Esque her best 'I know exactly what I'm doing' smile as she wriggled around trying to find a comfortable way to sit. There seemed to be none, and eventually she calmed and chose the least-uncomfortable pose she'd come across, with her forehooves set on the chair's seat and hind legs slid off to the sides.

"Today is your first lesson in your skills," Esque began, stepping out from behind his desk and regarding the wall across from him rather than Kibeth. He spoke rotely as though he were reading from a book, but there was none.

"Remember that I am always in charge. You will do whatever I say, the moment I say it, unequivocally. If I tell you to fly, you will do so. If I tell you to swim, you will do so. If I tell you to hold your breath... you will do so, for as long as I say so, even if that means you pass out. Do you understand?"

Kibeth was sitting in stunned silence at the forceful suggestions, but after he had glared at her for several minutes, she ever-so-slowly nodded her head.

"Excellent," Esque turned on his heel, pacing as he spoke again.

"Until you have completed your training, you should not be using your magic outside of my supervision. Once training is complete you will be given a set of instructions on appropriate uses of magic and a list of acceptable duties you may use them to complete, in order to earn barter chips. You will not receive this clearance nor these instructions if you do not pass this class. Passing this class is based entirely on my judgement of your magical capabilities; mine, and mine alone. If you do not perform to my expectations, you will not pass.

"You will not _discuss_ your training with any other. These classes are my methods, and they are not up for others' use. You are to learn from them, and they are to guide you, but you are not to disseminate this knowledge. Neither are you to think that completing my course will make you proficient enough to become a teacher yourself. I should think by the end of this course you will know better than that... but for now and for many years from now, you are absolutely not ready."

Esque turned on his heel again, and this time he came to stand before Kibeth in her seat, and his hardened gaze fell on her like the weight of a stone dragon.

"There is a very real chance that, at some point in this class, you will risk your life. There is a very real chance that you may die as a result of practicing your magic. If you want to continue to learn and continue to practice, you must understand and accept this risk."

"Do you accept it?"

Kibeth wasn't quite sure what to do. It didn't feel like the type of question that should be answered lightly or without thought... but she was still an adolescent-of-sorts, with not enough life behind her to know what vast expanse still lie ahead, and an overeager appetite for proficient use of her magic. She had waited years and years for this... it didn't seem like she would be able to say "no", even if she considered it...

"Yes. Y-yes, I do. Absolutely," she nodded solemnly.

"Then we can begin," Esque's voice dropped low.

He turned back toward his desk and moved closer to it, examining the light exuding from a light-globe there. It caused a small, bronze paperweight of a nondescript eagle to cast a shadow on his desk... and, dutifully, he leaned in close to the shadow. Kibeth's eyes had followed him around the desk and now they watched closely as he lapsed into concentration... and, slowly but inexorably, the eagle's cast shadow seemed to peel itself from the surface of the desk and stand upright. It was rigid for a moment, as though cast on an invisible sheet of paper... and then suddenly it became loose, fluid, its wings twisting into a position they could flap from and sprouting descript, distinct feathers in place of the fuzzy shadow's edge. The eagle's beak snapped open and loosed a mute cry and then, with a powerful flap of its dark, ethereal wings, it leapt into the air and soared above Kibeth's head.

She watched as it circled around to her, a dark splotch in the room's air. She could see the texture of the ceiling behind and beyond it, for it was translucent as any other shadow. The eagle descended in a series of tight circles, closer and closer to Kibeth, who reached out a curious hoof to act as a perch for it. The eagle landed, and just as soon as it had, it dipped its feathered, silhouetted head down and dug its beak into her flesh.

"OW!" she shouted, startled, and flapped her arm to shake the thing off... but it was just a shadow, and her hoof quickly passed through it. The shadow-stuff turned to puffs and wisps of dispersing black vapor as her hoof passed through... but it simply sucked back into itself the moment her hoof had passed, reforming into the eagle-shape that now held on to her leg with greater and greater force.

"Esque, it hurts! It hurts, Esque, please, get it off!" she wailed, leaping to her hooves and hobbling a circle in the room, favoring the shadow-tagged hoof and trying her best to bite at or stomp on the shadow.

She hadn't actually looked at Esque, but the stallion had slumped a bit into his desk for support. His brow was creased with his reaction to effort, and his breath had started to come short from exertion. As a drip of sweat trickled down his nose and tickled a nostril, he snorted, and then broke the spell, shaking out his mane and regaining his footing.

Kibeth stopped in her tracks when she realized the shadow-eagle had vanished. The skin of her leg, however, had an open gash in it where the eagle had bitten, a wound that would clearly need a salve and bandaging for a day or two. Her eyes had welled and overflowed with tears that clung to her cheeks still, as she turned to confront the teacher that had sicced such a terrible bit of magic on her.

"Sometimes," Esque heaved as he tried to catch his breath, "... even the most harmless-seeming magic... it can be harmful. Always... be aware of what you are doing with your magic, what your magic can do on its own, and what the results might be..."

Kibeth might have had more upset words for him, but he looked weak, as though he were about to keel over. She hobbled over to him and cocked her head, "Are you all right? Should we both go to the infirmary..?"

"NO," Esque said, suddenly, with booming voice, before reiterating more quietly, "No. That is all right. Some of the more powerful magics - like turning a shadow creature tangible - take a lot of power. More power than I should be expending at one time... at least, anymore," he sighed.

"I'm getting old," he clarified as he sat carefully in the chair at his desk. After enjoying the feeling of resting his legs a moment, he turned to pull a drawer open and retrieve a small jar of salve and a roll of bandages.

"Come here, let me bandage you. Now, I have only ever experienced one pony who was wary of the shadow-eagle and didn't try to touch it," Esque related the tale as he pulled Kibeth's hoof close, examined the wound, and then used a small swab to apply the salve he'd removed the lid from, "It was because his family had been attacked by Rocs for several years in a row. In fact, he was so frightened of it, he turned tail and ran and the town didn't see him for three months. It turned out he'd shacked up in a small cave, boarded himself in with provisions and refused to come out. When he finally emerged, he'd gone mad, and he ran off into the forest shouting gibberish."

"So," Esque concluded as he finished wrapping the sterile bandage around her injured fore-wrist, "it's not always best to immediately fear everything, either. Fear is an instinctual response and it will cause you to do instinctual things... things that aren't necessarily the best, most clear-headed choice. Caution, wariness, these are the things you should allow yourself to feel around magic... be careful, but be aware; do not touch, examine, but do not run."

"Sometimes, running can be just as bad as staying..." he trailed off.

"There. It should be good as new in a couple of days; just make sure you change the bandage tomorrow... but it can come off the day after that," Esque nodded at the job he'd done tying off the bandage and let go of Kibeth's hoof. The salve he'd put on had helped with the pain somewhat, and now it was merely a dull ache from bruising.

"I think we should probably spend the rest of the day going over basic defense against magic... you can begin using magic at our next lesson, instead." Esque lifted himself to his hooves again and stepped over to the half-full bookcase in the corner, retrieving a thin book with 'Defense Against Magic' plastered on its cover. As Kibeth opened the book, Esque was already drawing out the chalkboard and getting ready to list the major points of the book. Kibeth had no idea how he managed it without having the book at-hand, but she soon forgot all about her injured hoof, her rapt attention on the coursework instead.

* * *

That evening, as the sun started to dip below the horizon and set the sands aflame, as the hustle and bustle of the tower began to quiet, as ponies made their way from classes or jobs back to their rooms to enjoy their evenings, and as the stars started to peek through the darkening blue of the quilt of sky, a shadow flashed across the crenellations of a particularly tall parapet. It weaved fluidly around pillars on a guard-watched balcony, easily escaping their keen eyes which were generally faced outward, then climbing the stony wall above their heads with startling speed and grace. It was an indistinct blob, rising higher and higher as the darkness of night began to set in. Only the moonlight betrayed its movement; the moon hung full in the sky and her snow-white gaze flashed across everything on the landscape, lighting Zith-lynd better than any purposefully-directed floodlight.

The moon lighting its frame was not enough, though. The shadow - the creature, the entity, whatever it was - leapt from balcony to outstretched buttress, from brattice to brattice, clearing the gap between towers in a single bound of its ethereal form, clambering up sheer vertical stonework, clinging with ease to rooftops that had been smoothed through the years. It silently cartwheeled over the head of a guard here and slid along behind the back of another. After climbing the entire height of the tower, it finally reached the same, smaller towers it had reached before. There, the shadow stopped... though its form still shifted, in substance, in size, and in shape, until finally it came to resemble something: the form of a flutterpony, but completely nondescript... nothing more than a shade.

The shade stood still for many moments, as if it were contemplating, but it was an unnatural stillness; a restless pony might shift or stir, its mane and tail ruffled by the wind, but the shade stood literally motionless, an inky dot on rooftops so high even the Gods never looked at them.

Finally, it stirred, a slash of black movement diagonally across the rooftop that supported the seven towers. It headed toward a specific tower, zig-zagging upward for a moment, before a bright flash of popping, white-hot fireworks suddenly exploded through the sky, momentarily lighting a patch of rippling magic that served as a barrier. The shadow-figure cartwheeled backward, scratching at patches of magic burning phosphorous-bright on its surface... all the while the figure was silent.

It finally composed itself, crouching on the rooftop mere feet from where the blast of its attempted entry had lit the sky. It flickered, a sign of irritation if anyone could have guessed it. The night wind carried only the quiet whisper of shifting sands, but in the shadow-figure's head, alarms were blaring... magical alarms. It was a crude defense, and the shadow wasted no more time with it; in a flash, it slid like a giant drop of crude down an eave, where it met the mouth of a gargoyle and then slipped effortlessly like an inky waterfall down to a waiting rain-gatherer below. It leapt out onto a balcony, and then seemingly simply dissolved into the air like ashes tossed in the wind.

No sooner had the shadow dispersed, than a group of three armored flutterponies appeared on the rooftop, heaving from the exertion of flying so far up the tower, into such thin air, so quickly. They landed on shaky legs, all three, clambering across the foothold-less roof with great help from their overworked wings, and began searching. They did not need to search long; the bright rays of the moon illuminated their whole search area as well as any sun, and nary a shadow could be found to conceal any danger... let alone could they find a danger, itself.

They had been told to find the intruder or spend the evening on the roof searching, and so, in their tirelessness, their ebony backdrop grew azure and the azure grew magenta, the sky brightening imperceptibly until they'd memorized every one of the towers' loose shingles and trekked across the expanse of the roofs six times. When the Dawnbell finally rang out, they hung their heads; the Captain of the Guard was not going to be pleased with a report of "Must have been a bird". They grudgingly found purchase on the roof to take off from, and fell like depressed autumn leaves to the balconies below, meeting up in a stairwell so they could approach the Captain's work-quarters together.

* * *

The next day, every pony in the higher ranks of the tower was on-edge. It spread to the ponies beneath them, and those beneath them, until the edginess of the teachers began to wear on the students. For two days, then, the classes were cancelled... which had only ever happened a few times in the history of the tower's existence. Ponies were sent back to their quarters and told only to attend their specified mealtimes, and to otherwise avoid restricted areas and spend their time in their quarters.

The last bit of advice was not only made to keep the ponies out of trouble and reasonably safe... but because the tower had a generally very strict regimen, perfected over hundreds of years, that kept any of the specific rooms from becoming overcrowded. While half of the castle worked during the day, the other half were mostly students (the tower allowed ponies to be students well into their adult years) and studying in various classes, or visitors and tradesmen... and only a small portion of those would, for instance, be checking out a book from Zith-lynd's expansive library.

During the lock-down, however, as Kibeth made her way to the floor the library's entrance occupied, she found quite a crowd of ponies. The crowd only became thicker and less maneuverable as she got closer to the library, and the closest she managed to truly get was several yards from the entrance door. A massive wave of ponies was crowding in against a massive wave that had already entered and yet another massive wave that was in the business of leaving with their borrowed books. Kibeth was not impatient and might have considered sticking around, politely waiting her turn to enter amidst the throng of bored, otherwise-quarter-bound ponies like her... but she soon realized that the library could very possibly run out of all of the interesting books.

The Zith-lynd library was composed mostly of instructional, educational, and referential books. Most of what they had gathered was either hoof-written by residents, or sought out especially for its specific content, generally as a reference for their many magical arts teachings. The Zith-lynd tower was not generally known for its excess nor its overflowing vaults of gold, so books used only for entertainment were rarely purchased, generally hand-me-downs, anything the caravans happened to bring by and not be asking far too much gold for. If Kibeth waited, she was more than likely to get a book... but whether that book would be an interesting tale of far-off lands like she wanted, or an alphabetical list and pictorial reference of all of the weeds that were able to grow in salt-water... she did not have very good odds.

Finally, she turned against the crush of library-bound ponies and began to ascend the staircase back to her quarters, where she would be alone. Unlike many of the ponies in the tower, the guards had been put on double-duty... overtime Alile could barely keep up with, but insisted on attempting. Kibeth had not seen him since the evening of the intrusion, relying only on hastily-scribbled shorthand notes to know that he was still breathing somewhere, and to know what time she had to be home by, despite the fact that no one would be any wiser to her tardiness should she choose to be late.

She sighed; she did not want to go back to the loneliness of her quarters.

"Kibeth! Oof- hey, watch where you're going... Kibeth!"

Kibeth turned an ear and then swiveled her head to see who it was that was calling her. A grayish blob was pushing through the mass, obviously not identifiable from that color alone.

Slowly, the form pushed closer through the throng, and then looked up to judge his distance. A shining white mop of hair flashed by and it clicked; the voice had been Ruvan's.

"Kibeth! Phew, haha, you certainly manage to slip through a crowd," he wheezed, catching his breath a stair or two below her and shaking out his mane now that he had room to breathe.

"Myshna, Ruvan, I would not have expected to see you here..."

"Oh, because of the books? Hah, I actually really like to read. Esque assigned me a specific book before this whole mess came up... I hope he'll be lenient considering, well, um..." he glanced back over his shoulder. The onslaught of ponies eager to borrow a book had not slowed.

"I am sure he'll understand," Kibeth stated, managing to sound more matter-of-fact than sympathetic.

"I'm not too worried... say, want to head to the cafeteria with me?"

"We're not supposed to go until it's our turn," Kibeth slowly shook her head.

"Uhh, okay," Ruvan looked momentarily exasperated as he was stymied, "... what about the garden?"

"I think... I think Mistblossom anticipated this sort of thing," Kibeth motioned to the library, "and managed to get "restricted access" for the garden."

"Well, by Am'hatai's bountiful backside," Ruvan cursed. Kibeth managed a dissatisfied 'hrrmph' in response, and Ruvan blushed and bowed his head apologetically.

"What about one of the music rooms?"

"Aren't they closed off like all of the students' classrooms..?"

"No," Ruvan shook his head with certainty, "I walked by 'em this morning. I think they left them open in case anypony wants to practice; I imagine they don't want the tubas honking in the middle of the quarters-floors."

"W-what would we do in the music room..?" Kibeth's head cocked a bit quizzically.

"Get away from this noise, for one," Ruvan scoffed, "... and, um, just catch up a bit. I know we've seen each other in the cafeteria once or twice, but, um, Esque hasn't had another class with us together... I just thought I'd find out how your classes are going."

"My first one was a bit painful..."

"Mine, too," Kibeth muttered immediately, "Come on, let's go to the music rooms."

The trek was short, and the two young ponies arrived at one of several music rooms down a long hallway. In fact, there were no fewer than six doors, each labeled with "Music Room" and a fanciful silver G-clef. Kibeth had only attended music classes two times during her years in the tower... the first had been a basic music course to teach the students about musical notes, the various musical instruments, the history of music, and similar. The second had been for an attempt at choir. As the days of her choir class dragged on, though, she realized either her ear for music or her voice were unruly and she could never seem to stay properly tuned. In the end, she had dropped the class, in favor of yet another class on astronomy.

So the music room they entered - room 4 - was unfamiliar to her. The walls had been painted an earthy brown, and the whole room felt smaller and cozier for it. A piano sat, covered by a dusty tarp, in a corner, and a series of risers - platforms for ponies to stand on at multiple heights so they could all be seen at once while still able to play their instruments - had been slid closed into a tall vertical piece of furniture and rolled up against a wall. The floor was mostly clear, with only a few chairs sitting haphazardly in the middle. Ruvan pulled one of these over to another and then gestured for Kibeth to sit.

As Kibeth carefully sat in her proffered chair, Ruvan threw himself down in his own; its feet clattered on the tiled ground and, getting comfortable, he leaned backward in the chair, using his legs to keep himself mostly-steady and smiling at Kibeth from his relaxed, laid-back position.

"So did he do the bird thing to you, too?"

Kibeth knew she wasn't supposed to be discussing her teachings with anyone, but an ache in her chest warned her that her heart was desperately searching for someone to connect with. So few ponies in the tower had Twilight powers, and Ruvan and Ulp were the only ones she knew of that were only just beginning to learn. She had no one to share the experiences with - the good experiences nor the bad ones, because not even Alile could truly understand - and she just couldn't keep silent anymore. She was tired of being alone in her journey.

"Y-yes... he did the... thing, with the eagle's shadow. It bit me," she raised the hoof it had latched on to, and Ruvan chuckled and pressed his own, still-bandaged hoof to hers.

"He said there was a reason for it but I think he just likes torturing us," Ruvan shrugged, not seeming to concerned about it.

"Oh, but, there is a reason. I think he wants us to be watchful for magic tricks..."

"Couldn't he have done something else, though? Like... given us a present that blew smoke in our faces, or painted our hooves red, or candy that turned us green..? It's magic; couldn't he have done it another way? Pfffhhh... he's obviously evil."

Kibeth rolled her eyes a bit. Ruvan seemed awfully melodramatic.

"He did it the way he knew would work best. He's a teacher. Are you a teacher?"

"No..."

"Well, he knows what he's doing. Dream Keeper helped pick him and she wouldn't have if she thought he was evil or thought he wasn't going to help us," she stated matter-of-factly, adding a nod for emphasis.

"Are you friends with Dream Keeper?"

"I... yes, I think so," Kibeth nodded. In fact, Dream Keeper had spent most of her time around Kibeth out of obligation insofar as Kibeth knew; she began to question just how much of a friend she was to Dream Keeper, but Ruvan cut her off.

"So, um... what's your favorite book?"

Kibeth cocked her head, and one of her eye-ridges raised much as a human eyebrow might. It was an odd change of the discussion...

"I think... um... maybe... A History of Flutterponies, by Avermack..."

"What?!" Ruvan gasped, "That's a text book! I mean... what's your favorite _fun_ book?"

"It is-" Kibeth was about to protest that A History of Flutterponies was quite enjoyable for her to read, but Ruvan was peering at her purposefully. She sighed.

"Then maybe... Am'hatai's Eyes and Other Tales by the Sorcerer Rikall?"

"Mmm," Ruvan wasn't about to complain that that was a book for fillies who hadn't even grown in all of their teeth yet, but he refrained. "My favorite is The Black Magic Dragon by Enderweiss."

"Oh yes, that, I've read that," Kibeth nodded knowingly.

"Oh, you have?! What did you think of it?"

"The narration was written all right except for some strange parts where he switched to the second person. The descriptions are well-done but I noticed the author went back to use some of the words he used quite frequently-..."

"I mean, what did you think about the story, itself," Ruvan laughed. Kibeth blushed deep mauve and shut her mouth, waiting until she could think of another response.

"It was... creative. I did like the twist at the end, with the Black Magic Dragon turning out to be a rat with a sorcerer's curse on it..."

"Wasn't that the best?!" Ruvan cried, clearly excited to be sharing the ending with someone.

"I have read better twists," she responded quietly, trying not to sound pompous.

"Oh, really? I love a story with a good twist... would you tell me about them?"

Kibeth grinned.

"Why would I tell you about stories with twists? You have to read them yourself..!"

"Well, just... tell me which books they are so I can borrow them, myself, then," Ruvan puffed his cheeks in a mock-pout.

"Okay, I can write you a list..." Kibeth set the satchel she carried around her neck down on the floor and lifted its flap, revealing the regular contents of notebooks and textbooks. She retrieved a notebook and set it on the ground before her.

"Oh, you don't have to do it right now. What sort of marks did you get in Writer's class, anyway? Are you sure you don't need someone to transcribe..?"

It might have been an embarrassing question for some, but actually quite a few of the tower's inhabitants couldn't properly write the tower's common. Writing implements were held in the mouth or on a hoof in a writing apparatus, but it was awkward, and the shorthand-like scrawl that sufficed as the hoof-written language, like any written tongue, was alien to anyone who simply heard it and hadn't been taught what marks meant what words. Some ponies suffered in their Writer's classes and were moved to other vocational courses.

Kibeth was not one of those.

"I'll have you know I placed quite highly in Writing..." she scoffed, before placing her writing charcoal - in its polished wooden holder - into her mouth and carefully jotting down a few of the books that came to mind. In a matter of minutes, she had a list of six or seven books she thought Ruvan might like to read, and she placed the charcoal back into its holder and into her satchel. She ripped the piece of paper out of her notebook and passed it to Ruvan, who carefully folded it and placed it in a pouch behind his wing.

"... it's maths and sciences I have a problem with, sometimes."

"Oh, yeah? I'm all right with my sciences... maybe I could help you some time," his eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Mmm, maybe," Kibeth seemed embarrassed to accept any such help.

"Oh! You know what I just remembered..?"

"H.. how could I know..?"

Ruvan looked perplexed a moment and then flatly responded, "... I didn't expect you to, I was going to answer..."

"I just remembered," he announced, puffing his chest a bit, "that you never showed me your magic."

"Oh..." Kibeth suddenly looked crestfallen. "I can't"

"Why, because of what the teacher said?"

"Of course."

"What do you think he could even do to you?"

"Kick me out of class!" Kibeth shouted, then remembered they were in a public space still, and quieted down. "I've been waiting since I can remember for this class, I don't want to get kicked out. I want to learn how to control it..."

"Oh, you will," he gave her an enticingly crooked grin.

"Not without Esque's help. Neither of us should get kicked out. You need the classes just as much as I do. Why do you even want to know so badly, anyway?"

"I..." he seemed to consider his words, "... feel like we have some sort of connection. Like... this magic connects us. Or something. Hah, I know, it sounds dumb." He shrugged unapologetically.

"I just want to know more about you and it's the only thing I can think of. And I'm curious."

Kibeth sighed and eyed the notebook she'd left out. She read her scribbles on the paper and then closed her eyes, seeming to grudgingly decide something.

The satchel at her side rustled a bit, shifting and shuffling before the charcoal writing utensil she had used previously began to emerge. In fits and spurts it jutted out of the bag, forcing against the satchel's flap weakly until it finally slid free and aimed itself at her notebook... all seemingly on its own. It floated down with an unnerving curve, against gravity, before landing squarely in the middle of the notebook, point-down.

Kibeth's brow creased as her eyes focused on the book. Her tongue stuck out from the side of her mouth, a sure sign of deep concentration... and as she focused, the pen made slow, deliberate motions... as deliberate as she could make them. Actually, they were jerky and quick, but she managed to scrawl something out nonetheless. After a few final motions, the charcoal implement dropped to the ground, and she carefully reached over to pick up her notebook. She had written the shorthand for 'Telekinesis' on the page.

"... obviously," Ruvan breathed, a whisper of sound, as he stared at her. He looked enraptured, simply gazing in awe as the seconds and then minutes passed. Finally, she put the notebook back up in her satchel and looked away from him.

"You'll stop asking now, right?"

"Only if you let me ask you about other things," Ruvan smiled, shaking his mane out of his eyes, sitting his chair up from its relaxed balance, and suddenly scooting closer to her.

"Oh, yes... I suppose... as long as it's not about class," her eyes darted to the other side of the classroom, purposefully avoiding acknowledging his closeness to her even as she felt a flush rise at her cheekbones.

"Well... what's your favorite song?" His voice was quieter, gentler when he came closer.

"'Dragon's Aftermath'..."

"Oh," Ruvan sounded a bit stumped, "... but isn't that kind of... old?"

"Yes," Kibeth sighed, "I just like the story it tells. What about yours, then?"

"Oh, right now, probably... Lion's Pride."

"You like instrumental music...?" Kibeth was clearly surprised.

"Yeah, well, it's most of what we get, here... and I like the stuff with big drum parts. You know, Lion's Pride... bum bum BUM BUM BUM bum bum BUM BUM BUM..." he waggled his front hooves comically to the beat of the music. Kibeth giggled.

"I like it, too."

Ruvan's polite smile turned deeper as he opened his eyes to look at her. She could see some sort of awe light a spark behind his eyes, and for only a moment, she was nervous.

"I like you, Kibeth," he immediately looked to her for her reaction, his smile wavering a bit.

She looked down at her hooves, not betraying any feelings immediately as her bangs fell over her eyes. She had felt something like this might be the case, as his glances to her when they'd caught each other in the cafeteria had seemed to hold more than a passing, platonic interest. She may not have been an adult, yet, but she had had the innate feeling since almost immediately after their encounter in the storage space...

"I like you, too, Ruvan," she whispered hesitantly back as she lifted her head, finally acknowledging the feelings she had had since the same moment.

They sat together in the stillness of the otherwise-empty, partially-darkened music room, then, looking into each others' eyes. Neither seemed certain of what to do next, or where to go from their declarations. Ruvan's longing eyes turned intense for a moment and he looked ready to act, but Kibeth suddenly stood up.

"We... are not supposed to be here, talking to one another," her voice turned cold.

"Kibeth..." Ruvan looked hurt, "don't do this. We can still talk. He didn't say we couldn't talk, did he?"

"Even if he didn't, I don't think he'd want us here..."

"Who cares. Who cares? I don't care what that old stal thinks. He's not the only Twilight magic teacher in the world... he's not the only pony in the world. He doesn't know everything," he scoffed with sudden vehemence.

"I want to spend time with you. That's what matters... to me. Does it... matter to you?" His voice calmed again, warmed again, and he reached for her.

"Y-yes, it does," she said with little thought, though she seated herself again only slowly. She knew she cared for him; she had no ability to question that part of herself.

"I know... that you like me," he reached out for her again as he echoed her thoughts. His hoof touched one of hers, and she felt a warmth spreading through her like nothing she had felt before. It tickled the pit of her stomach and she felt her senses heightened as she turned to look at him again, longingly.

"Yes... let's spend some more time together," Kibeth finally cut through the silence as he watched her.

"Excellent," Ruvan brightened, clapping his hooves together, "we should talk about all of our favorite things. Do you have a favorite food, then?"

The two continued to talk in the music room for the remainder of the day. Only when the orange light of near-sunset began to spill down the hallway and leak in through the tiny window in the door did they realize how long they had sat happily chatting with one another. They spent a few awkward moments saying their goodbyes before finally coming close for a hug. As Kibeth lifted a hoof to Ruvan's right shoulder and placed her neck against his left, and they felt the warmth and pleasantness of their two skins touching, he leaned in to kiss her just above the shoulder, a light but noticable peck.

"Myshna and good evening, Kibeth," he smiled, somewhat regretfully, as he opened the door to let her pass through.

"Myshna... and of course a good evening to you, as well," she tried to hide her own regret, turning her head as she bolted out the door and up the stairs, not looking back to see if he was following. She needed to get back to her quarters... and she needed some time to herself.


	32. Chapter 32 - The Plan

**Author's Note: The beginning of this chapter is something I've considered omitting before. I feel it's important to illustrate the closeness growing between Regulus and Mistblossom but I'm not sure I like how this part of the story does it. Thoughts on this are appreciated. Also, be prepared for some very vivid imagery, both romantic and violent, in this chapter.**

**SHADES OF GRAY**

_Chapter Thirty-Two - The Plan_

Regulus' heart felt light as he stepped through the door to the garden, despite the quarantine restrictions. He carried a basket in his teeth; a light wicker, picnic-shaped, with a brightly-patterned towel tossed over the lid. He trotted forward with purpose, his hooves ringing on the cobblestones even as he skipped some in his efficient stride. He passed by the flowers that lined the path though he would usually sniff at them... he passed by the towering, shady trees though he would usually stand and admire the cool umbrage they provided. He headed simply in one direction, to the back of the garden, gaze pointed forward, not stopping 'till he reached a bend in the path.

He set the basket down on the cobbles, "I'm here!"

"Come on back!" a soft cry returned.

He lifted the basket again and came around the corner to a bamboo glade with a beaded curtain. He passed through and immediately his eyes were on the smallish, home-like surroundings for her.

Mistblossom was tucked in the corner of her nook, crouched over a cutting board with some vegetables and a sharp knife. She moved swiftly with it in her mouth; it was clear she had been making meals for herself of this stuff for quite some time. He admired her slightly crouched form, her glittering wings still and hanging to her sides, unruly hair squiggling down in fits and starts around her cherubic face. He caught himself staring and then caught himself holding his breath, and hastily but quietly exhaled and then sucked in a breath.

He moved toward a tiny table that sat in another corner of the glade-nook, just big enough for a few ponies... and plenty big for just the two of them. There, he set his basket, and quickly tossed off the towel, revealing a few loaves of freshly-baked bread... a rye, a sourdough, and a honey-grain. They were not full-sized loaves but would allow for them to sample each of the flavors... and they were fresh. The bread in the tower was almost never fresh, given that the bakers would bake more than they needed on some nights (which was always preferable to too little), and the remainder would be given away at the beginning of the day, while the fresh bread from that night's baking would begin to go stale. The night's batches were almost never still warm when they reached the ponies of the tower... but Regulus had sway.

He had approached the cooks with the special request days before. Even the Council generally disliked to bother the cooks, but the Seven were given all freedoms. He'd asked for the loaves to be specially made and no questions had even been asked; the head cook simply nodded and said it would be done, and he went about his business... and he was glad for it. This was how he liked things to go.

"Done," Mistblossom called from where she'd been chopping up part of the fare. She picked up her plate and carefully, gracefully stepped toward the table. After setting the chopped vegetables down she turned to smile at Regulus, a twinkle of delight in her gaze.

"The bread smells delicious. I can't believe you went to the trouble for me. The last time I had fresh bread, I think I was much younger... and I could afford to stay up for the night cooks to sneak me a nibble from the first batches."

They both had a laugh together for a moment, and then suddenly Regulus had moved around the table and was next to her. His haunches were tense and his hungry eyes looked her up and down once before he pushed even closer. She had barely begun to blush when his muzzle came near and he kissed her. He pressed passionately into the kiss and Mistblossom felt the force of it and bowed before it. He lifted a leg to her side to draw her nearer, his tail twitching in excitement, relaying feelings his eyes - closed and lined with exertion - could not. They stayed locked in the kiss for nearly a moment before Mistblossom finally withdrew.

"We must... prepare dinner," she spoke up, practically panting, as she quickly turned to examine the mixture of vegetables she'd chopped up for their meal. She was bright red and her eyes flickered between him and the table; Regulus could see she was flustered and part of him enjoyed it. He hadn't known for certain that she had feelings for him, but it had been so long since he'd met a mare he felt any connection to...

"Yes, I'll help," he submitted, withdrawing the bread from the basket and cutting it into slices. He'd brought some butter, as well - another delicacy she couldn't bring up in her garden on her own - and spread it liberally across a few slices. Meanwhile, she withdrew a cool sauce from a cooled compartment in the kitchen-area. It was much like a salad dressing, and she tossed the vegetable ingredients in it in a similar fashion, lightly coating them before she scattered them on the buttered bread and then offered it to him for a taste.

"What is in the sauce?"

"It's my own special mix," Mistblossom said timidly, "a little lemon and pepper, some other special ingredients..."

"Mmm," Regulus' mouth had been watering as he'd watched her, before she'd even listed ingredients. Eagerly he bent over his sandwich and took a large bite of it. A bit of dressing dribbled down his chin as he chewed, thoughtfully, then swallowed.

"Ah, fine work," he praised her, and she brightened, "thank you for the hard work of preparation."

"I was so excited when you asked if I was free..." she began, before realizing that perhaps revealing her excitement was a bad move. She noticed she had leaned forward with her emotion and sat back a bit, then carefully took a small bite of her own sandwich, enjoying the rye bread he'd somehow known to give to her. She was one of the few ponies she knew who had enjoyed rye even in childhood; for others it seemed an acquired taste, and as she watched him happily eat his own rye piece, she felt the flutter of nervousness at the new territory in their relationship. It was welcome, but she still had to get acclimated.

As Mistblossom contemplated this, Regulus discreetly wiped his chin off on a nearby towel and continued to eat his sandwich quietly, glancing up to her after each bite. They were halfway finished when Mistblossom suddenly looked up to him.

"I meant to ask... how is the search for the intruder going?"

Though Mistblossom was one of the Council, she was rarely well-informed about current happenings. Even though he had restricted knowledge of the case, he felt sympathetic of her ignorance, finished a bite, and cleared his throat.

"It's likely the same thing that's attacked the members of the Seven now passed. It was suggested the killer was getting in through the tower-tops, and a barrier was placed there... and that's the barrier it tried to breach. Whatever it was, it disappeared when the guards got there... no trace it existed. It seems it only attacks at night. We've placed more guards, including some on the top of the tower itself."

"Doesn't it get quite cold up there?" Mistblossom sounded worried.

"Oh, yes, but they'll be dressed for it," Regulus waved away her concern.

"Does it... have some magical ability? The killer..?"

"We think so... the alarms set off a specific way that indicated as much to the Wizard," he shrugged, "No idea what type of magic, where it comes from, who sent it..." he looked suddenly weary, then.

Mistblossom's face fell and she felt a pang of sadness for him. They had met only a couple brief times since his last visit, and each time including up to this point, he had seemed weary in excess and aged beyond his real years. She knew the task of being the Head of Justice could be difficult, but it seemed as though it were literally sapping him of life.

He finished his sandwich while she watched him with patient eyes; she was done with hers. When he finished, he wiped his mouth a second time, then smiled broadly.

"Perfection. The vegetables really outshone the bread; I could've brought stale, it would have been just as good." He nodded sagely.

"Oh, you jest. Let me clean..." she began to clear the plates off the table.

She set two in the sink and turned to grab the third and final, and found him standing directly behind her. He'd moved quickly, silently, and she gasped and tensed, startled for only a moment. He didn't give her a chance to catch her breath, forcing himself toward her for a fiery, twisting, lengthy kiss. She felt pushed up against the sink and carefully pushed back against his aggressiveness. He relaxed his crush, then separated fluidly from the kiss and gazed down at her with longing, but with weariness, like a lost sailor who hadn't seen a harbor or another soul in years. Her heart wept for that look but soared for the kiss and she felt herself easily succumbing.

"Come with me," she turned, strode around him, and looked over her shoulder with a suddenly sultry swish of her eyelashes. She turned back again, heading to the most secluded part of her little bamboo-walled living area, striding with an obvious swing to her pleasantly rounded hips and rump. Regulus watched on, momentarily overwhelmed... but he then swiftly moved to meet her. She had only just opened the beaded curtain to the small, mostly-darkened, pillow-filled, secluded compartment, when the warmth of his side pressed against hers. She felt his shoulder flex next to her, and his neck craned around. He brought his teeth down to her neck and lightly grazed them across it... she shivered. He felt it and snorted, a lusty sound, letting loose a puff of warmth on the patch of skin he'd just excited. He nipped at it, and she whinnied prettily... she scooted into the tiny room and he was right behind her, lifting off his forehooves and rearing toward her before the beaded curtain had even fully closed behind him.

* * *

That night, a shadow crept up the tower again. Even though guards had been dutifully posted all about the compound, wearing thicker and thicker dress as they were higher and higher up the tower, they saw nothing. The shadow was as stealthy as anything could be, winding up walls almost as though it were just passing through the cracks, defying gravity as it flipped through the air, slithered across the floor or up the sheer tower walls, and even stretched and compressed to momentarily merge with the shadows around it and go undetected.

When the shadow reached the upper roof, where the seven towers stood, and where eight guards ponies roamed between the structures wielding directional light-orbs and peering into the darkening evening, it sat silently behind a gargoyle for an hour. Two hours. The moon moved across the sky and reached its zenith and then the shadow shifted. It slithered, shaped like a slug but fast as a black bolt of lightning, toward the nearest guard, who had gone around a tower and was obscured from his comrades' view. The shadow rose up, then, expanding, eating opaquely away at the starfield behind it as it reached out with a thousand tiny wisps of appendage and smothered the guard. The guard had time for a gasp, and then the shadow was inside him, invading his nostrils, weaving down his trachea and swirling into his lungs and turning inky, sludgy... drowning him and letting only a single sick, splashy cough escape into the night. It was unheard or disregarded, and the shadow wisp reformed over the quickly chilling, stiffening corpse.

It watched the other guards. Waited a few seconds. It moved on to the next. Another wet gurgle and another slice across the sky, the black blotch left them all silent witnesses, their glazed-over eyes watching sightlessly, circled around the tower it then moved to ascend.

It approached the tower cautiously, knowing the barrier that was before it. The shadow twisted uncertainly for a moment before shaping into a flutterpony, stray wisps floating off into the night and leaving only the cloaked gray form. A gutteral sound issued from it, a broken and almost barking mutter, a distant-sounding voice speaking a clearly distant dialect. The form glowed a deep, disconcerting crimson, and reached a hoof quickly forward toward the magical barrier. It parted with a gasping sigh as though the magic had boiled away to gas. He stepped forward and the magical veil parted silently around him, hissing, but not pulsing, not blaring any distress.

The flutter form instantly shifted to its mercurial, dark form and began to climb the tower it had chosen. It circled as it climbed as though a set of circular stairs had been carved out for it, but none were there; it seemed to climb through nothingness. An arrow-slit or tiny window at the top of the tower, one of the only unbarricaded windows, served as an entrance... the form shivered, shrank, and slid straight through.

It sank to the floor as soon as it entered; it was in an attic-of-sorts. Boxes of labeled personal items littered the bare wooden floor... the shadow passed them by, headed for the small patch of odd wood that marked an entrance. With a simple motion, the wooden door flew up off its hinges, releasing a quick 'CRACK' and then settling quietly on the floor beside the quickly-departing shade. It dropped through the door to the small spiral staircase and then floated quickly down the stairs. It wavered as it flew, shifting between opacity and translucency, but always dark. The staircase led down, down, further down, to a small hallway.

It housed two wooden doors, well-crafted and thoroughly decorated. The walls were also richly-clad, draped with fine silks covered by large, ornate frames that displayed hoof-painted landscapes, fine mastercraft pieces that would fetch a pretty penny in any market. The shade moved precisely down the hallway, stopping outside the first door only briefly before moving onto the next, which turned out to be a set of double-doors with fancy scrollwork on their smooth metal handles. The handle turned and clicked when the shade reached out and touched it, and the door opened a crack... enough for the shade to slide in, leaking through sideways to reform in the bedroom.

All around the shade was extravagance, from the four-poster, dark wooden, king-sized-and-larger bed taking up the center of the room to the rest of the hoof-carved furniture filled to overflowing with finery. The dressing mirror, easily three ponies wide, sat above a counter covered in the finest perfumes and makeups. Dimmed light orbs hung in every corner, glowing down softly on the room but not illuminating the intruding shadow. It slid forward toward the bed, which was open to the room and upon which a slumbering figure lay.

The figure was Primadolla, the Head of Ingenuity. She lay spread out peacefully across her bed, her blankets thrown off her much earlier in the night and body bared to the moonlight, with her head turned slighty enough to reveal a swirl of blue stars as a tattoo on her neck. The figure loomed over the bed for a moment, and then solidified into its flutter form. With a bit of heft it lifted its torso to stand on the bed above her, and as the bed rustled, she awakened. Blearily her eyes tried to focus on the pony above her and then they shot open, panicked. She started to kick her back legs, but it was too late.

The figure shifted back to shadows and slid out an extension of itself, wrapping it around her neck. It twined around and around, forming a constricting collar before finally the shadowy form sharpened to an opaque, clearly visible point. It grew and grew, becoming thinner and longer until it reached out toward her face. She gasped, then choked as the hold constricted, nearly crushing her windpipe. A whimper of pain escaped her for only a moment before the still-stretching shadow-piece reached out to her open eye, which rolled with panic. The needlelike form of the shadow jutted into the meat at the corner of her eye.

Her whole body suddenly struggled against it, but the shadow spilled onto her, plastering her to the bed as her upper body writhed. The needle shoved deeper, thickened, and the shadow began to extract from her. She made to loose a cry but she could no longer breathe with the shadow wrapped around her neck and she soon fell limp. She lay undisturbed for only a moment before her body began to thin. The shadow-arm seemed to continue to drive deeper into her even as her skin sunk in against the muscle and then seemingly against only bone. She withered like an apple left in the sun, her skin even drying to burnt-paper texture, her sunken, blank eyes nearly evaporating before the shadow finally pulled its appendage loose.

It sat brooding over her corpse for a long while, then. It sat motionless. It didn't even shift. It could have been mistaken for a deeply black piece of furniture as it seemed to mull the happenings over, or process what it had retrieved. It sat for several hours, until the sun threatened to emerge into the sky that was beginning to show a tint of blue... and then it seemingly exploded. The shadow-form gained a number of random, tiny pores in the space of a second and began to spray the retrieved blood from them, covering nearly everything in the room. It was still plastered over the body and little blood, if any, made it there... but all about the room, a thin coating of blood-paint misted, staining silk and ruining perfumes and blotting out precious pictures and memories.

In moments it was done, the remains of its retrieval spent. It turned with purpose, its unsympathetic back to the murder it had committed, and became translucent once again. It floated, cleanly, down the hallway... back up the spiral staircase... it gassed itself out the arrow-slit in the attic and then slid down the towers as the light of day began to shine on its dark-magic form. Eventually, it dissipated into nothingness, evaporating as the Dawnbell began to signal the new day.

* * *

"They can't keep the quarantine up forever, but we don't have forever. I have months, at best, and you need to be taught soon," Esque lectured Kibeth as she walked in the door for her magic class. She had been neglecting it like all the others because of the quarantine, which had only become stricter in the wake of the new death of the Head of Ingenuity. Either Esque didn't realize the consequences of his requesting her to come learn, or he had been in the castle too short a time to care about their authority; either way, he had sent a message to her quarters to request - or, rather, demand - her presence. It was a good thing Alile hadn't been there, because he probably would have forbidden her to go.

Instead, she had come, quickly, and doing her best to avoid the guards who scoured the hallways. She told them all she needed to go to the bathroom... and one had even escorted her there, for which she thanked him before slipping from his view around a corner. She had made it the rest of the way here undetected and had entered the classroom prepared for a final piece of praise from Esque... but of course she had been reprimanded as always.

"Sit, sit, sit, we must begin," he grumpily gestured toward the hair chair he'd made her sit in for the eagle test, and obediently she went to sit in the position she'd found most comfortable.

"Now," he said, lifting himself from his seat behind his desk and eying her with scholarly condescension, "I'm told you have a gift for telekinesis... that is to say, you can move objects with your mind. This is what they tell me. Is it so?"

Kibeth cowered under his gaze a moment before slowly nodding.

"Well, then, show me," he barked.

"Uuh, okay." Uncertainly she peered over at something on his desk... a small pencil. She tried to concentrate.

"Well? Show me. SHOW ME. Show me your magic, Kibeth. Where is it? I don't see anything happening," he pestered her, leaning in close, literally breathing down her neck as she tried to focus on the pencil. She squirmed under his gaze and finally broke, hunching down weakly and looking at him with pleading eyes.

"When you need your magic, ponies around you aren't going to shut up for you," he sneered.

"You need your magic to be something without thought. Without concentration."

"But... it takes concentration... all of the books say-..."

"The books aren't about this magic, and the books aren't teaching you; I am."

"It is true," he paced a bit, suddenly restless, "that there are spells you will be able to do eventually, which will take some concentration... but these minor magics, you must master them to the extent that they are your second nature.

"The more you spend time working with your magic, the more a part of you it will become, and the easier this will be," he faced her, solemnly.

"Then... why are you making me do it right now?" she challenged.

"I don't teach thing the easy way, and you don't get the luxury of time. You have now. You have days; maybe weeks, not much more... for now. Progress is not going to come cheap in this short of a timespan."

"Why do you have to go? Why won't you stay here and teach me?"

"I'm no member of your tower... I have a life outside here, and things I need to do. Ponies I need to see. I am not usually a teacher, and while I take teaching you quite seriously... it is, unfortunately, not my utmost priority," his eyes flicked to the side.

"... okay," she replied weakly. His face fell a bit and he kneeled next to her.

"I know you've been working hard and I know you can do this, Kibeth."

She nodded, and wordlessly she turned to face his desk again. Her eyes focused on the pencil and it lifted with purpose, jutting into the air with a swift jerk and hovering shakily there.

"Yes, yes, excellent," he nodded, surveying it from afar before getting back on all four hooves and trotting nearer to it. He lifted a hoof and tapped it, and it moved.

"Woah," Kibeth murmured, and the pencil shook, lost altitude, and clattered on the desktop.

"Not the best control, hmm? Try it again."

Kibeth nodded and peered at the pencil again, and soon it had lifted into the air again. It floated hesitantly, wavering, its point dipping down toward the desk and then quickly snapping back up, only for the eraser to do the same. Esque did not seem impressed. He reached out toward the pencil with a hoof again and made to touch it, but before doing so, glanced to Kibeth again.

"Think of the pencil... as a rock."

"It's a pencil," Kibeth replied flatly, her eyes still focused on it.

"Close your eyes if you have to... but it is not a pencil, it is a rock."

Kibeth seemed confused but closed her eyes obediently anyway. Her mind worked, trying desperately to see a rock where she knew the pencil was. All she could see was a pencil. It was so difficult to tell her mind anything different. She could hear Esque, though, whispering to her... "it's a rock". She struggled. The image of a pencil in her mind turned gray. She pushed, and the pencil became larger. It grew, it widened, it became rough. It rounded, cracked; moss grew across its surface and dirt shook from it, and soon Kibeth was amazed to see a boulder there, hovering inches above Esque's desk in her mind's eye. It was huge, it was solid, it was immovable.

"It's a rock," Kibeth mumbled quietly, her eyes still lightly closed, and Esque grinned.

"It's far too big for me to move, correct?"

"... yes," Kibeth stated after a moment, surveying the size of the boulder which was easily Esque's height and, being made of rock, likely weighed at least three times his own.

"And so if I do this..." he brought his hoof toward the pencil and tried to push it down, misdirect it or otherwise push against Kibeth's magic's force.

Kibeth could feel the movement, and could see the boulder moving in her mind. It didn't seem right and suddenly her mind moved to correct it; Esque should not be moving the boulder, it thought, and the bolder did not move.

"Look, now," Esque offered, and she carefully opened her eyes, still trying to feed concentration toward her skill. Esque was still before her, still near to the pencil she was managing to levitate, and now his hoof sat on top of it, lightly. The pencil was still hovering in the air, but much more solidly, with no wavering. Esque pressed harder down on the pencil and Kibeth could feel the force... tentatively, she tried to push back.

"Ooh, hey now," her teacher replied as the pencil fought weakly against his hoof. With a wry smirk, he put both hooves on the pencil and forced it down to the desk. Kibeth watched and could feel her magic link to the pencil almost completely shattered... but when she realized there was still a connection, however faint, it nursed an ember in her that quickly rose into a fire, and she fought back. Esque could feel the pencil beginning to slip out from under his hooves, and his eyebrows shot up.

Much like tensile strength, though, Kibeth could feel her hold on the pencil weakening. She could almost feel it like a separate arm, losing grip, slipping along the surface as Esque held his hoof down with greater and greater force, his gaze all the time on her.

Finally, she gave out.

Her hold was broken and she tipped a bit in her chair, but somehow the strange configuration of it helped keep her upright. She was panting, not realizing she'd been holding her breath toward the end of the attempt to wrestle the pencil away from him. Her hair and forehead were slicked with sweat.

Esque looked down at her with concern... her eyes were closed, but they fluttered open. She sat up straight in her chair.

"That was... awesome," her face broke into a grin.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Esque responded with half-lidded eyes, putting his pencil into its cup on his desk before sitting down behind it again. He didn't really sound glad; he sounded perturbed."

"Did I... do badly?"

Esque heaved a sigh.

"You certainly did not perform up to my expectations... but perhaps you will be a quick learner," he shrugged. Kibeth's spirits fell a bit, but her eyes hardened with determination.

"I will be... I will be. Are we on to the next lesson..?" her eyes pleaded.

For a moment, there was silence, as the unicorn stallion regarded a small book - likely a schedule planner - on his desk. He flipped a page, muttered to himself a moment, flipped back, and then looked up to her.

"We should have time for a few more lessons today, I suppose, but you will need rest between them. So... book work. Take this," he strode to the bookcase and retrieved a thick tome, dropping it at her hooves, "... read the first five chapters. Be prepared to give me a summary of each. And... stay here. I have somewhere to go, but I will return with haste; I should not be gone longer than ten minutes."

"Yes sir," Kibeth nodded studiously.

Esque moved to step out the door, then turned back and peeked through the crack.

"If you need food or drink, you'll find some food in my desk, and you have my permission to walk to the washroom down the hall."

Before Kibeth could agree to the new terms, he slipped back through and closed the door behind himself, quickly trotting down the hallway until she could no longer hear his echoing hooffalls.

* * *

"The first phase is nearly complete," Esque said aloud, seemingly to himself. He was crouched in the corner of a deserted classroom, in a deserted hallway, which was in one of the restricted areas of the tower. He had been let through to retrieve "supplies" and found his way to the room furthest from prying eyes, where he was certain not to be heard or interrupted for at least as long as "getting supplies" was inconspicuous.

"I expect it to be finished within the next week. However, no other phases of the plan are near completion," his voice wavered with disapproval but more with fear at what that failure meant, and he stopped writing for a moment. The quill he had been manipulating with his slight telekinetic abilities was pulsing a bright, lime green, but the moment he stopped speaking, the glow shrank. Sweat grew on his brow... he knew he had to keep speaking before the spelled quill ran out and the special message would remain undelivered.

"None of the ponies here are gifted enough in Twilight magic to serve any purpose. The ones in my care are mere children, not even of mating age... there is no pony here of the necessary caliber. I know you have said something is here but I have personally inspected every nook and cranny of this tower and I have found nothing.

"Phase one will continue as planned and I will continue to tutor the ponies in my care. I do not waver from your cause but I fear it can not be upheld under these conditions.

"Advise me.

"At your command,"...

He heard knocking on the door. But he had barely been writing for ten minutes. Were the guards so bored they had to bother him to stay awake..? He wrapped the paper he'd written on around the glowing quill even as the light from it dissipated and it grew dark. A slight sizzling sound seemed a signal to Esque and he stood to go open the door.

The light from the hallway poured in, silhouetting Dream Keeper, who was looking at him bemusedly.

"These halls are restricted..?" she seemed to ask, begging a reason from him.

"Oh, yes, yes, I know," he flushed red with embarrassment, "I just... needed some supplies, here, you see. I told the guards; did they not inform you?" He stooped to pick up the now-blank parchment and dry, old-looking quill, flashing them briefly at Dream Keeper along with a innocent look of sheepishness.

"I'm teaching Kibeth," he threw in, in a hushed whisper...

"Even though the quarantine is on..?" her equally hushed response seemed pleasantly surprised; he latched on to it.

"Yes, yes, of course! She needs guidance now... not when the Seven decide to finally get this matter solved. She's perfectly safe, of course... but we need these supplies. She's been practicing so hard with, er, manipulating the pencil and quill... we've run out of paper."

"All right," she whispered grudgingly, "but you should go. Now. Do you have everything? Yes? All right. Well, good luck with Kibeth. And please try to stay out of these areas."

"Of course, honorable Councilmember," he bowed, then turned on his heel and strode very purposefully away.


End file.
